


Denouement

by WindraDeadZed



Category: Borderlands, Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Plotbunnies, Post-Game, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Ridiculously long story, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 211,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindraDeadZed/pseuds/WindraDeadZed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Commonwealth is seeing it's first era of peace in a very long time. Innocent civilians are no longer haunted by the Institute. The Brotherhood of Steel has, alongside the Prydwen, vanished in a spectacular firebomb. With the Minutemen running the show and the Railroad providing amnesty for escaped Synths, all is well.</p><p>Except the Sole Survivor has been missing for two years, and nobody is quite sure where she may have gone. Or if she's even alive.</p><p>--------</p><p>The Vault of the Traveler has been summoned. With the monstrous guardian defeated, to the victors go the spoils! Except Fiona and Rhys find a little more than they bargained for when the voice of a little girl reaches out, begging them to help her 'mama'.</p><p>Quite suddenly, they are extracted from one planet and deposited onto another. It's not quite the reward they were expecting. Especially when a Deathclaw becomes their welcoming committee.</p><p>--------</p><p>Two entirely different universes - separated by hundreds of years and millions of light years yet connected by a frangible unknown - are about to collide. And the Commonwealth is going to get a front row seat to things thought only to exist in comic books or science-fiction novels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_"Please ... help Mama."_

In the permeating confusion that was the darkness overtaking what had once been a room of floating crystals and brilliant light, Rhys wasn't sure if his ears were deceiving him or not. It felt like it came from over his shoulder, but a quick swipe with his metallic arm revealed nothing but empty space. Cold, vacant nothingness.

He exhumed a slow sigh in an effort to calm himself. 'It's not very effective'. Attempted Zen did nothing to relieve the tension in every muscle and the palpitations of his heart. Yep, nothing at all. No light, no sound, no sense of anything but a thick, creeping chill and a pending anxiety attack. He didn't dare move. The chest's platform in the Vault had been small, and a misstep could easily send him teetering into an assumed endless abyss. 

They were still in the Vault, weren't they?

"Hey, Fi?" he called, voice shaky. A knot clutched his throat at the lack of a response. Rhys swung his arms out, feeling for something - anything. "Fiooonaaa, where are you?!" Shit, did she fall?

His palm slapped something solid - presumably the back of the con-artist's head judging by the clump of hair he'd felt. "Ow! What the hell, Rhys?!" She elbowed him through the dark - a lucky shot, considering she nailed him in the ribs.

"Hey, you could've answered."

"I'm thinking."

"I thought I smelled something burning."

She must have had damn night vision eyes or something, because the following whack got him in the gut.

"You can stop that now," he huffed. In a whisper, he added, "Man have you got anger issues."  
"I don't see you doing anything to find us a way out of here," she bit back. With a bit of afterthought, she concluded that, "See, like, figuratively see. I can't actually see a damn thing so ... "

Rhys flexed his hand, activating the flashlight. Or he would have. Either nothing came out or the void was just devouring all forms of light like a black hole. "Well that didn't work."

"What didn't work?"

"My light."

"What light?"

"The one I can shoot from my hand?"

"Well, I don't see a light."

"That's kind of the point."

"Maybe you should change the lightbulb."

"It doesn't - "

"Enhance!"

He genuinely couldn't tell if she was being serious or attempting to lighten the mood. Either way, he pursed his lips and looked at what he thought was the other way. How did they wind up here? The Vault had been anything but dark and ominous. And the glow that enveloped them from the chest was warm and soothing. After having a homicidal AI integrated into his brain, facing a bad bitch with a rocket launcher, getting ejected from a falling space station and staring down a towering monstrosity of a Vault monster, it had certainly felt like their luck had made a turn for the calm and rewarding.

But Vaughn was right. Everything on Pandora could kill you. Who knew?

Who knew that the Vault chest would deposit them in some other plain of existence where literally nothing but them existed?

"Do you think they came in behind us?" Fiona proposed, sounding hopeful and worried all in one go.

"Who?"

"Sasha, Vaughn, Zer0, all of them? I mean, if we never came out than they must have gone looking, right?"

His frown echoed his thoughts. Who knew what was left remaining in the Vault once they'd vanished. Would they be in danger if they tried to look for their two missing companions? Full panic mode, engaged! He opened his mouth to vocalize his freak-out -

_"Please ... help Mama."_

A womanly shriek erupted in the dark and it sure as hell wasn't Fiona's. Rhys jumped backwards, then was pushed forwards by a woman who was none too pleased that he'd stepped on her foot.

"I'm getting tired of you shit, Rhys," she barked.

"Sorry, sorr- c'mon, you had to have heard that!" Panic mode, enhanced! The fear of something else probing his head - something nobody else could see or hear - set his anxieties on fire. It sure as shit didn't feel the same way it had with Jack. In fact, Rhys felt ... normal. As normal as somebody with cybernetics installed in his body could, anyway.

So it was a relief when Fiona answered with a, "Yeah. Didn't that sound like a kid?"

It did. A little girl, no less. She couldn't be very old. But where the hell is she? Rhys thought, feeling around with his hands again with respect to where Fiona had to be standing. Where the hell are we?

Neither of them were prepared for the ear-splitting shriek that came a split second later. 

Or the explosion of everything they had been deprived of while sitting in the nexus of nothing. 

Light, sound, heat - all sensations that didn't exist moments ago came roaring back to life. The glare of a way-too-bright sun forced both of them to shield their eyes. "Okay, okay, there's a sun. So we're back outside?"

Fiona adjusted to the light first. He could see her now, and she was tipping her head from side to side. "Uh ... "

"Uh?" he asked, rushing his words a little much. "What's uh?"

"I um ... I don't think we're where we want to be right now," she responded with in a voice way too concerned to be a happy Fiona, or even a cynical Fiona. It was a somber Fiona he was hearing - the same kind that had been there when Sasha was dying and he cried all over the place.

The former Hyperion blinked away the sunspots marring his vision and looked up. He could no nothing but join Fiona in a slack-jawed stare into a horizon filled with ruined buildings and tattered landscapes, none of which looked like they belonged to Pandora. Or Elpis or ...

"Ohhhhhkaaaayyy," he mused when his gaze switched skyward. "Fiona, there's no Elpis."

"What?" She followed his stare. "Shit, there's no - oh crap, you don't think we - "

Something groaned behind them. It sounded disturbingly close, frighteningly loud, and smelled like something a Skag would drag out of a dumpster. There was no surprise when Fiona was the first to turn - she and her sister were practically fearless. But Rhys? He found himself rooted to the spot, struck by an unfounded and unreasonable terror that kept him from looking at whatever was now casting an impossibly large shadow over the both of them. 

"Rhys?" He could see the shock on her face as she took multiple steps backwards. "Rhys, you should-"

Too little, too late. And he wasn't sure that moving would have helped him anyway. Well, he was definitely moving now as something hard and sharp struck him hard in the side. Rhys had only recently known what it felt like to be rocket-propelled through space, and he really didn't like it. This sensation now was surprisingly similar - right up to the bone-crashing impact with solid earth. 

"SHIT, RHYS!" He was pretty sure she was screaming, but it was hard to hear over the shifting of his own skeleton and the sound of rushing water in his head. Pain erupted blindingly from his entire left side. He rolled helplessly to his right, groaning at the movement because he couldn't holler. Why did it hurt to breath all of a sudden?

This isn't the Vault treasure I was hoping for, mused the cyberetically-altered man. Using his robotic hand, he reached for some kind of ground to pull himself forward and away from whatever attacked the shit out of him. But there was a long, deep growl and the quaking of earth. A foot appeared before his face, armed with thick, sharp talons and one hooked dew claw.  
And then there was something next to his head. Something breathing. Plumed of exhaled carbon, warm and foul-smelled, pressed against his face. He tried to look at it from the corner of his left eye but found he couldn't see anything. And from the right eye everything was ... well, everything was blurry. Hazy. Brimmed with dark edges.

But this thing's mouth was right next to him. He breathed slowly and stifled a pained groan when he inhaled. Maybe if I don't move ... 

Yeah, because that totally worked for you a second ago, cupcake, Rhys could almost hear Handsome Jack's berating. Buuuuuuuuut, it looks like you're about to die. You had a sweet little ride, but big ol' fossil here looks pretty hungry.

It was growling again. He heard saliva slapping between gums as it opened its jowls wide.

He could also hear something like a rock strike it and Fiona taunting from the distance, "Hey lizard breath, don't ya wanna moving target?!" followed by a, "Shit shit shit!" as the monstrosity moved away from him and towards her at a slightly quickened pace. There were gunshots and a fierce roar that literally shook the whole ground. What was she doing, shooting at it with that pea-shooter?

"Fi, don't - "

She obviously wasn't hearing him because the tirade continued. Instead, he focused on what little he could see. Rhys grabbed a firm stone and nudged himself along a little, but yelped instead when it felt as though his entire side was caving in. "Ffffffff- what the hell did I break?" Surprise and fear gripped him at how weak and faraway his own voice came through.  
The gunshots ceased, but only for a moment. Soon it started again, followed by the cacophony of many, many more ... and more shouts, more voices. 

"Ground crew, ready!"

"Macready, get the lad!"

Somebody skid next to him, grabbing him from the left and attempting to lift him off of the ground, forcefully moving what had to be broken bones in places they weren't supposed to move. It was enough for him to blast off into an unfettered array of yowling screams, even when whoever it was managed to get him into a sitting position. 

"Goddamnit Rhys, you really gotta lay off the ice cream," grunted Fiona, pulling at him despite his feeble physical protests. She somehow got him onto his knees and began to lift, straining with each tug. "You ... heavy ... ass ... "

Another somebody slipped under his right arm. "Here, I got this side," a man said with urgency. "Ready, lift!"

They both groaned and grunted, but with the two of them it was enough to get him on his feet. Rhys felt the blood leaving his face. Why did it feel so warm in some spots and so cold in the others?

"Fat Man, incoming! Take cover!" somebody yelled from beyond them. Those earthquake-worthy tremors were moving quicker now. 

The man on Rhys' right screamed across his shoulder, "Move, move!"

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" snapped Fiona back. Their grip on Rhys tightened. At least, he thought it did. Was it weird that he couldn't seem to feel them? Hell, even the agony of shattered bones was dissipating. "You still with us, Rhys?"

He responded with a, "For the most part," but it came in the form of a mumble. The assisted walk was turned into a drag as his legs seemed to stop functioning on command. 

"You're clear!"

"Firing!"

There was a blast of heat and sound - the most notable of which was an intense cracking like rock being split into several thousand pieces. The monster roared something so cataclysmic that for a brief moment Rhys thought the world was coming undone. Light ... light so intense that it burned what was left of his vision and forced him to close his eyes to keep it out.

And out it went. All of it.

Rhys was fairly certain the ground was supposed to be a lot harder than it felt at that very moment, but the striking of stone against his already limp body didn't feel any worse than falling on pillows. He was acutely aware that Fiona's face was above him, yelling muffled things and shaking him as his eyes closed.

But really, he was too tired to listen.


	2. The Banshee

"Where are they?" Sasha was asking. She wasn't looking at the group when she asked it, but her eyes were roving all over the scene. Every pocket in the wall and every groove in the floor was subject to examination. As fruitless as those inspections may have been, they made her feel better.

For somebody who had so willingly sacrificed herself to ensure the Traveler's death, somebody who had just faced death and skirted past it by the skin of her teeth (with the love of the father-figure who had scorned her), the darker-skinned woman definitely appeared completely nonchalant. _Calm_ , Vaughn would say. And that was really, really unusual. He was expecting a length flow of cusses, the throwing of objects and the demanding (from a non-sentient room) of Fiona and Rhys' location.

To have none of the above was, well, concerning. And frightening to say the least.

_She's probably freaking out on the inside,_ though the ex-accountant. Yeah. That had to be it. He nodded in afterthought, absentmindendly thumbing through his well-groomed beard. 

Athena, Zer0 and Janey trailed behind the lot of them. Loader Bot and Gortys were off ... somewhere. The two walked (er, rolled?) off sometime after Sasha had been healed, presumably to catch up on current events.

"I've never seen th' inside of a Vault before," Janey was 'oo-ing' and 'aah-ing', taken aback by the floating crystals and illuminous beauty of something so ancient and mysterious. "'Ave you seen a lot, Athena?"

"One, to be honest." The gladiator kept on hand on the holster of her weapon, fingers at the ready in a moment's notice. "And it was huge. This is really ... small. I was expecting more Vault Guardians."

"Wasn't the Golem enough?" piqued Vaughn, raising a brow. "I mean it could easily make up for a couple-hundred badasses."

Sasha's attention shifted briefly to them, but it was obvious she was very distracted. "There were a couple inside the Traveler. Not a lot, but they were nasty. Fiona took them down like a pro." A grimace crossed her face as she cradled her right arm, carefully supporting the elbow. She kept forgetting it was broken. Waving it around wasn't helping.

Athena beamed. "She did? Good girl." Her grin became somewhat menacing, like a boxer amping for a fight. "Ooooh I wish I was there to fi - "

Janey glared. "We 'ad enough with the Traveler. An' that'll be the last. Right?"

Struck down like a dog losing it's favorite toy. Athena's chin drooped and she sighed a, "Yes, dear."

"It will be a shame  
To be out of Vault hunting.  
But, you'll be happy."

"Yes she will," Janey said smugly, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Zer0." The masked Hunter shined back with a glowing smiley face.

"You don't think they fell over," Vaughn broke from the conversation, "do you?" He was leering at the edge. A genuine fear kicked in that if he looked over, he might see his friends down below in ... less than good sorts.

"I doubt that to be," quipped Zer0 matter-of-factly.  
"They might have terrible luck,  
But to fall like that ... "

"Yeah, there's no way." Sasha stopped before an open chest with a frown set upon her face. "Fiona's not clumsy. Neither is Rh - _nooo_ , that's a lie. He's a total clutz, but Fi wouldn't let him fall. Not after everything. Which reminds me, Vaughn ... I need to tell you something." She looked over his shoulder at him, quirking the corner of her lips in a way that he couldn't tell if she was smiling or frowning.

He stepped up to join her side. Despite his apprehension, he turned an alert and compassionate ear towards her. "Sure, what's up?"

"I'm, er - I'm sorry. Really." It caught him by surprise. Sasha seemed extremely awkward as she said it. "The both of you being from Hyperion, I was quick to judge and, honestly, I wanted to kill the both of you right off the bat. But then we got to know you and - I kinda regret not being _nicer_ to you."

She probably didn't count on him laughing. Her expression, therefore, was a mix of confusion and offense. 

"Why are y- "

"Seriously, Sasha?" He stifled his laughter to a giggle. "I've forgiven you a long time ago. Hyperion screwed over everybody pretty hard. Not just Pandora, but all of it's employees too. Hell, Vasquez tried to get Rhys and I to sell each other out." That was news to her.

"What, really?"

"Totally, and it _totally_ didn't work."

Something clicked for Sasha. He could tell by the way her facial features adjusted. "Oh yeaaaaah, I remember the asshole called Rhys at the death rally. Trying to bribe him."

"And how did that work out?"

"He hung up on him." Vaughn let out a seal-bark styled laugh. Sasha chuckle despite herself. "That was the first time I thought I might be wrong about you guys. That and the whole thing with the shock baton and - "

" _What_ whole thing with the shock baton?"

Sasha stopped mid-sentence with her mouth hanging open. He could see the blush creep across her darkened features before she shook it, and the conversation, away. "Yeah, nevermind that."

"But - "

" _Nevermind_." She was adamant. 

Vaughn rubbed his chin and smiled. "Bottom line, Sasha, is that it was totally plausible for you to feel the way you did. I mean when you're working under the title of a dickish company, it would be safe to assume it's employees are dickish, too. We had our misconceptions that Pandorans would be raving mad lunatics with gun fetishes and, with exception of the bandits, we were waaaaay wrong."

She held up the index finger of her good hand. "Wrong about everything but the gun fetishes," she corrected.

He looked from her to Athena and back again. "Maybe _unhealthy obsession_ would be more apt."

Sasha and he stared into the chest for a long while. She breathed out slowly, grasping the mysterious box's edge with clenched fingers. "This doesn't make any sense," she mused, uncertainty clinging to every fiber of her voice. "How can they just _disappear_?"

"The nature of  
Eridian is unknown.  
Who knows the truth?"

"It isn't going to come to us while we're staring at an empty chest like it'll bring us to Narnia," replied Athena as she stepped between Sasha and Vaughn, placing a firm hand on both of their shoulders. "It's possible they left and are outside looking for us right now."

"And vanish in a really flat landscape, where ya can see for miles in all directions?" retorted Janey. She was doing what Vaughn couldn't bring himelf to and was looking over the edge of their floating precipice. Judging from her look, it was an inconclusive search. "I hate to say it, but th' only way outta here aside from the entrance is up or down. An' since they can't fly, maybe they really _did_ fall."

"Or you could ask her." It was the first non-haiku thing Zer0 had said in this entire chapter.

"Ask who?" Sasha began to turn and they all followed suit.

Zer0's thin finger was pointed at something between all of them, but there was really no need for him to point the being out. Janey slowly stood up, looking positiely creeped out. Athena stood in silent confusion along with Vaughn. Sasha was the only one speaking, announcing, "Whoah, what? Where did she come from?"

The little girl in question stifled a pitiful sob.

She was as real as the room around them despite not having _been in it_ for the whole time. No taller than maybe three feet with long blond hair that hung in curls about her feet, her skin was as pale as a ghost. Her face was indistinguishable, her gaze being locked on the ground and her visage clouded by bangs that parted to the right. She wore a pale-blue garb that Vaughn noted looked suspiciously like a hospital gown, and she was barefoot.

_"I'm sorry."_ Her voice was small, weak, and utterly ethereal. It traveled through the whole room like a whisper, never losing volume despite how far it seemed to travel. 

"Athena?" Janey whispered, taking several steps back. "I'm just a little freaked out."

"You're not the only one," responded the gladiator. Her shield was up and gun at the ready, gripped hard in her free hand. 

Vaugh tugged at her elbow. "You can't be serious?!" he yelped, completely appalled. "Don't draw on a little _kid_!"

"A kid to you," snapped Athena. "We're still in a Vault. These things are famous for illusions and tricks and ... who knows what she really is? Just be ready to fight or run."

_"I'm not a trick,"_ The girl till refused to look up. Her feet squirmed, displaying uneasiness in the presence of all these powerful people. _"I'm just sorry ... I r-really thought they could help. B ... But I didn't mean to teleport them there. I didn't mean for them to - "_ Another sob. She raised a hand to wipe away an unseen tear.

One could see Sasha's muscles grow rigid. She stepped forward, despite the uncertainty clouding the whole room like a noxious cloud. "You said 'them'." While Sasha's voice remained calm, underneath was a quavering volcano waiting to let loose. It made Vaugh shiver. "By 'em', do you mean my sister and Rhys? Girl with a hat, guy with a robot arm?"

The presence nodded.

"And ... where are they now?" Sasha stepped closer when an answer never came. Her bad arm continued to hold itself against her chest, but her good one's hand flexed uncontrollably. " _Where. Are. They_?"

"Sasha," warned Vaughn.

_"I was trying to bring them to mama on Earth."_ God, that disembodied voice was making them all anxious. _"But something made me hurt and I-I brought them to the wrong place and one of them .. "_

She finally lifted her head. Vaugh could hear Athena mutter a, "Ah, shit," under her breath.

There were two white eyes and rivulets of sadness that rolled down her cheeks, dripping relentlessly to the solid crystalline structure beneath them. And there were tattoos - pale blue and tribal in nature - weaving this way and that. They covered the entirety of her face and neck, disappearing beneath the neck-line of her gown and out of sight.

The child's mouth opened and closed as her sobs became more violent. Her whole body was quivering uncontrollably. _"I t-t-think one of them is d-d-dead and it's all my FAULT!"_

If nothing else made their blood run cold, that was changed immediately. Vaughn couldn't describe the cold lump that had formed in his stomach, but it definitely made it hard for him to breath. Nothing but frayed dread encompassed his mind. It seemed the same for everyone else in the room. Even Sasha. But that didn't stop the gun-nut one bit.

She stepped closer, not stopping until she stood directly in front of the weeping child. "Take me to them."

He was sure she was speaking in the heat of the moment. It didn't make sense for her to recklessly make demands ... Or did it? The two sisters were hot-blooded, with Sasha being more fierce and Fiona being more sarcastic. "How can she take you anywhere, Sasha? How did she even take the others? There's no defini - "

"Vaughn," Athena cut him off with stern reproach. "I know you're new-ish to Pandora. That's a Siren."

"A what now?"

"Somebody that could definitely take Sasha somewhere and ... " She hastily made her way down the floating stairway. "Sasha, I know what you're thinking and let me tell you why that's a really bad ide- "

But Sasha wasn't listening. Her good hand found the child's arm and gripped it tightly, unnecessarily so. Her fingers dug grooves into the Siren's flesh. " **Take me to them**!"

Athena's stride became a run and Zer0 drew his sword to join whatever was about to unravel. But the shrill, pained scream that flew forth from the child was enough to make the lot of them reel backwards amd cover their ears. "What's happening?!" Vaughn hollered, but he couldn't even hear himself over the penetrating yell.

He could, however, see a blinding flah of light that made his brain demand his eyes to look away. When it dissipated and he looked back, both Sasha and the child were nowhere to be seen.

Vaughn wasn't aware that his body had been moving. He suddenly found himself next to Athena, who was rambling in a rushed speech reminiscent of somebody commanding orders on the battlefield. "We need to find Maya," she demanded, sprinting towards the Vault's entrance. Her hand caguht Janey's arm as they passed her, forcefully tugging the mechanic along while she was still rubbing the light spots out of her eyes.

"Easy, Athena!"

Zer0 was easily several steps ahead of them. "Maya is naive,  
Knows little about Sirens  
Despite being one."

" _Lilith_ would go apeshit," Athena argued.

" _Lilith_ would know more," countered Zer0, undaunted and never raising his voice.

" _What_ is a Siren?" Vaughn attempted to interject. 

His attempt at questioning was received dismissively. Athena gave him a very vague, "You'll be finding out soon enough," as they vanished beyond the glowing Vault doorway.

____________

Sasha was barely aware that the sensation of flesh beneath her firmly-placed fingers was no longer present, but that didn't really matter right now. What mattered was the fact that the glowing light and sensation of floating was gone and replaced with the view of a sky and the sensation of _falling_.

Her arm may have been broken, but at this very moment in time it was completely meaningless. She flailed uncontrollably, screaming at the top of her lungs until the view of buildings and people filled her peripheral vision and something hard and metallic broke her fall. For the second time today she came crashing back to earth. And for the second time today, she broke her arm. Luckily it was already broken, but that didn't stop the pain from coming. 

"Son of a _bitch_!" she screamed, rolling to her knees. Sasha cradled her arm and kept the stream of curses flowing - up until she realized there was a growing buzz of commotion all around her. Through the blinding pain that cloouded her vision, it began to sink in that she was no longer in the Vault, no longer surrounded by friends ... and was instead surrounded by people she knew in an environment that was not only completely alien to her, but also smelled of ...

_Noodles?_

"Na ni shimasho-ka?"

"What?"

Something was writhing beneath her. Once her vision cleared up, it didn't take rocket science to see that it was some kind of robot. 

"Na ni shimasho-sho-sho ka-ka-kaaaaa?" it repeated. Sparks zipped around what should have probably been its head. Taking care to not move her busted appendage more than it needed to move, Sasha scrambled backwards off of the metal pile as it began to smoke, sizzle, and pop. "Shima-shima sho ka na na ni - "

"Way to go," somebody said loudly from the crowd that was starting to surround her. Sasha took a quick glance around her. They were all people, normal humans ... looking quite disheveled, if she were being honest. Their clothes were rags, patched up in places and sporting splotches of dirt in others. Further observation showed that she'd fallen into some kind of food stall, taking several pots and pans and - obviously - a robot with her. And a sign, apparently. The neon words 'Power Noodles' were still bright despite the daylight. "Somebody _finally_ broke Takahashi all the way."

The crowd was getting louder. Several of them looked angry. Others shared looks of amusement. 

"Who is she?"

"Where'd she jump from?"

"Suicider?"

"Yeah, how the hell did she climb up _there_?"

"FREE FOR ALL ON THE NOODLES!"

"Now now, you still have to pay," came an older voice as a man clad in a trench coat pushed his way through the gathering, bustling crowd. "Just leave your caps on the counter, or I'll come knocking on your doors later." 

A pair of tattered shoes came to a stop in front of Sasha. Her eyes followed them upwards. Dusty dress pants, the faded tan trench coat ... and a floppy hat covering a head that was the furthest thing from human she had ever seen. Well, maybe not literally, but it came a close second ... Old, frayed flesh like aged rubber clung to what was obviously some kind of steel endoskeleton - you could see the mechanical joints and wires in places where the skin of his jaw and neck was frayed and torn. The nature of 'his' face gave 'him' the appearance of an old 'man'. Honestly, he almost had a compassionate look on his fabricted face and that would have been comforting if not for the eyes. They were just two glowing yellow rings set upon dark gray, almost black, balls of metal.

The metalman's eyes looked over what had been 'Takahashi' and he shook his head remorsefully. "It's a shame," said the aged being. "Poor Protectron was already malfunctioning. He was going to wind up going out of service one way or another, I just didn't imagine it would be froma lady falling from the sky."

"Ah ... sorry about that?" Sasha smile sheepishly.

He held an arm out to her."M'am?" She hesitated on taking it for only a brief moment, but found herself grapping the metallic digits in the end. _This will be the second robotic hand I've held in my life_ , she thought. Vibrant yellow irises set upon her right arm as Sasha cradled it against her body once again. "I know you broke it. You could hear that snap halfway across the city. I'll get you set up with Doctor Sun and he'll have you feeling right as rain in no time, Miss ... ?"

"Sasha." The crowd was falling away from them and going their separate ways, apparently put of by Trench Coat's insistence of paying. Her voice lowered, boldly declaring that, "I have really no idea where I am and I'm looking for my missing family, so if you don't mind, I'll be on my way .. "

"And go stumbling out into the wastes with a busted arm?" He pointed at her hip with a long, silver finger. Sasha followed it to her gun. "Your weapon's holstered on your right, so I'm assuming that's also your gun arm. And if you're disarmed out there, you might as well have died from your tumble, because you won't survive for a day."

Sasha's jaw set itself firm. She prepared to nip back reproachfully before the robotic man held a palm up to stop her. 

"I understand that might have offended you, but it's the truth. As for your family ... " He tipped his hat slightly to the side. "My name is Nick Valentine, Synth detective for Diamond City, and I can help you more than you think."


	3. Hasty Interviews

What crowd had gathered at the destruction of Takahashi and his noodle stand dispersed in a few breaths' time. Apparently cataclysmic events or things falling from the sky was the norm around here - the citizens were far from surprised (although a few did mourn the loss of their noodle vendor). When Sasha apologized profusely for the Protectron's accidental dismemberment, Nick had told her with bemusement that it wasn't the first time he'd fallen to pieces and it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last.

She thought it odd - and perhaps somewhat lucky - that nobody made an eager attempt to inquire about her sudden plummet from the sky. Judging from the hushed voices as she walked past, a good bulk of them seemed to think she'd jumped from the steam-emitting pipe jutting from the Power Noodle stand's center in a hack attempt to take her own life. They kept their distance and that was just fine for Sasha. The less questions she would have to answer, the better.

Sasha wasn't exactly sure if compliments were in order, but Diamond City did look a lot better than some of the shantytowns back on Pandora. There was a definite hustle and bustle of trader activity. Small shops encircled what had once been an equally active Power Noodles stall, each vendor owner shouting promising claims about their merchandise - although to Sasha, all they seemed to sell was junk.

Well, there was a _gun_ vendor.

She was far more urgent in wanting to find Rhys and Fiona, however. Checking out the guns would have to wait until she knew they were safe and sound. But man, was she curious.

There was no limit to the kind of people wandering the sodden and dirty streets of wooden planks and dirt. Several looked about as normal as they came. But there were quite a few that appeared ... well, she didn't really know how to explain them better than 'zombies'. The weren't decaying in the conventional sense, but their flesh looked like dried leather and some of them were completely missing parts of their face (namely the ears and noses). And they weren't stalking after the humans like your traditional Romero-esque ghoul either. In fact, a good deal of them were conversing with others, trading, browsing ... and like the humans, they toted a wide variety of clothing. Some wore patchwork coats, suits and fedoras while a good deal more sported bits of leather and steel armor. All of them were armed with at least a gun or a melee weapon of some kind.

One tattered-flesh-man had a baton-looking item tied to his belt. Sasha looked after it as she followed Valentine, raising a brow in suspicion -

_Thump!_

She bumped bad-arm first into somebody in front of her and reflexively reeled back cursing, holding her wounded limb tightly. " _Fuck_." Sasha looked up, somewhere in between irratation and apologetic. She backpedaled instead when her eyes met the black-brimmed-white orbs of a leather-flesh-guy, gasping despite herself.

The stranger grinned. His teeth were oddly white and clean for somebody who looked so much like tanned hide. "Easy, girly," spoke the thing. His voice was raspy, like somebody who'd inhaled too much burning smoke. A withered hand grabbed at the corner of his tricorn hat and he tipped it slightly to the side. "Never seen a Ghoul before?"

Sasha wobbled a little at the agony in her arm. Nick steadied her by holding onto her good shoulder. "Ghoul?"

"Hancock," said Valentine with a smile and a nod of his head.

"Heeeeeeeeey, Nick!" the Ghoul named Hancock clapped the cyborn firmly on the back. "Got yourself some fresh blood, have you? It's about time. How many decades has it been?"

"It's a missing persons case, jackass," Nick shot back, though he shook his head with a chortle. Glancing sideways at Sasha, he told her, "Don't worry about this one. He's always been a little off, but he won't bite."

Hancock winked at her. "I might. Just for you."

Sasha's face wrinkled in disgust. "Not on your life, leatherface."

"Hooh, smoothskin's got some venom!" He barked a harsh laugh and clasped both of his hands over his chest, pretending to stagger. "You got me right in my irradiated heart!"

 _Irradiated?_ She shot Nick Valentine a questioning look, which he acknowledged briefly before returning his attentions to the Ghoul of the moment.

"What are you doing out here anyway, Hancock? You don't exactly go out sightseeing."

Hancock's shift from joking, flirty vagabond to professional was so quick and precise that it genuinely surprised Sasha. "I need to establish some trade lines for Goodneighbor. The Third Rail's coming down around the seams. You know, in a town surrounded by junk, I never would've thought we'd run low on steel and screws ... " He jammed his wrinkled hands into the pockets of his bright red long coat and took a long, sweeping gaze of his surroundings. "It ain't bad being back in Diamond City. I'm fuckin' glad McDonough is gone. Kinda disappointed Nora didn't kill him, though."

"We'll keep stepping backwards if we let violence dictate our lives," said Nick pointedly. 

The Ghoul made a face. "It would've been nice if she shot him in the kneecaps. I coulda laughed at least a little seein' him hobble off with some Super Mutant on his ass." Snorting indignantly, he shuffled his boots and turned blackened orbs to what Sasha guessed was the city's main entrance. "I'm gonna get back. You give me a holler if you ever need me, old pal?"

"Of course."

As he strode past Sasha, he whirled to point an index finger towards her. "And _you_. I'll definitely be hollerin' at you. Bet on it."

The Pandoran gave a smug smirk. "Believe me, you'll be _hollering_ for all the wrong reasons."

"Shit, I like this one!" Giving himself a haughty chortle and slapping his knee, the Ghoul gave one final wink and stalked off.

When the Ghoul was gone, Sasha shuddered. Nick tapped her arm and she followed his lead. She waited to fall in step with him before opening her mouth. "So let's just say for the sake of conversation that I'm not native to this planet and all the lingo you're throwing around isn't making any sense. That I don't know what a Protectron or a Ghoul is, and that you'd have to give me a brief rundown of everything and anything so I know what the hell I'm looking forward to. Does that sound like a good plan?"

Perplexion was a new expression for his face. "Do you know what city Diamond City is actually a part of?"

Shaking her head, Sasha told him with witicism/cynicism that, "A city within a city? They should make a movie on that. And they should call it Citiception."

"I bet it would be terrible," Nick frowned, sarcasm dripping thick from his vocal chords (if he had them). "How about the state. Do you know what state you're in?"

"A state of confusion?"

"You and me both. Country?"

"I hate that music."

The place where his brows would have been furrowed. "You're a smartass," came the blunt statement.

"I try hard."

"It feels like it's flowing naturally for you." 

His tongue-in-cheek appreciation for sarcasm gave Sasha the first honest smile since she'd discovered one of her two missing companions could very well be dead. That sobering thought brought her sharply back into the real world. Her eyes fell to the ground as if something interesting had fallen. Keen observation prevaling, Nick Valentine's tone softened as he pressed on, tugging lightly at her elbow to lead her down an alley. The Pandoran would have thought this shady if not for the blaring 'Valentine Detective Agency' signs in neon red lights and a lone door at the end of it all.

"Do you know ... what planet this is?" On a normal day, Sasha felt like the detective might be asking this to some looney hopped up on one too many medications. But here and now there was a seriousness to his question that made her shift uncomfortably.

"Before I got here, there was this girl ... She mentioned the name 'Earth'. Is that it?"

Nick stood before the entrance of his den, jaw opening slightly to utter a response from his incredibly unsettled face. Instead he settled with a frown, looking fixedly behind Sasha. "Piper," he spoke sternly. It was a strong, commanding verbalization that actually made Sasha straighten herself. "You can quit skulking behind us, I know you're there."

Fron her periphery, Sasha could see another red-coated being. This time the form belonged to one of a human woman with bobbed black hair and something of a roughed-up driver's cap.

"Oh, Nicky!" she began, her words coated with a thick accent that certainly wasn't Pandoran and therefore couldn't be placed by Sasha. "I didn't see you - "

"And I know you will keep your mouth shut about this until everything is cleared. Correct?"

"Crystal clear, _boss_ ," Piper retorted. She extracted a pen and pad of paper fron the deep pockets of her leathery duster. "Although of course you won't mind me jotting down some notes ... " This was more of a statement than a query, because she continued to hold the objects firmly in her fingerless-gloved hands despite what Nick was clearly suggesting she do with them. Two stubborn stares matched each other. Valentine sighed and looked away. The woman won. "Score fifteen for the Piper," she whispered excitedly in victory.

"Who are you?" Straight to the point as always, Sasha cocked her head. Piper saw her orbs locking onto the piece of paper tucked into her hat and she grinned broadly back. 

"Piper Wright, chief reporter and editor of Publick Occurrences. That's 'public' with a 'ck' at the end."

"Oh, that name is _witty_."

"The paper?"

"No. You're last name. Wright." Piper gave a stiff smile - evidently she'd heard that one before (probably several times). Sasha threw on her best innocent countenance. "But what do you want from little old me? You heard the folks back there. I jumped. And lived."

Nick's harsh laugh echoed what Piper thought of her feigned innocence. "If 'exploding from a ball of light' is jumping, then I've been doing my job all wrong. Seriously, I wonder how in the hell everybody back there didn't notice it?"

"Too busy with the mundane lives of post-apocalyptic Boston would be my guess," was Valentine's input as he opened the agency's door. "But I definitely saw it, which is making me wonder if our stranger's story is, in fact, very factual. Remember, up until recently we didn't know that teleportation was a thing either." Settling his air into one of compliance, Nick abandoned the topic. "We'll talk more about this inside."

They followed him inside, with Piper squeezing past Sasha once she was just inside the doorway. "Nice hair, by the way," complimented the reporter. "And I'm loving the digs. You look like some kind of badass business chick with a temper."

Completely caught off guard, Sasha looked down at herself. "I ... never really thought of it that way. Thanks." _Badass business chick? Shit, Rhys would have a field day with that one._ Who's to say he already hadn't? She wasn't blind or stupid. Sasha had caught him numerous times staring after her, watching his ears flash red when he looked away as quickly as he damn well could. _And that was with every single outfit._

"Dear, you look like you've caught a fever," said a new voice. This one also belonged to a woman who was already present. Sasha blinked away her raging blush (which was wildly obvious despite her darkened flesh) to shake her head numbly. "Would you like something to drink?"

"I ... uh ... "

"A Nuka-Cold would be fantastic, Ellie, thanks!" happily chimed Piper, finding a seat close to the main desk. 

Ellie shot her a look of annoyance, bunned brown hair bouncing slightly as she sighed. "I wasn't talking to you Piper, but fine ... " She removed two cans filled with a viscous black liquid, placing one in front of Sasha and tossing the other to Piper, who caught it without putting down either her pen or her pad of paper. "They're not cold, but they'll do. Go ahead and have a seat, dear. You look completely spent."

"Ellie!" Nick's 'dimples' perked when he addressed her. "You're always a sore sight for this old mug. Any visitors while I was gone?"

"Just one for missing property. But it's for Mr. Atkinnson, and we all know how that normally turns out. His son steals the goods, sells them for caps, buys chems with the caps ... Case closed."

"I'll have to look into it later. Would you be a doll for me and summon Doctor Sun? Our friend here busted her arm on a really nasty fall. Coincidentally, she also has a case for me. Missing persons."

"Oh," Ellie held her hand to her mouth and her gaze fell to the arm Sasha held precariously. Leaning over, she undid the Nuka Cola bottle cap and handed it over. "I didn't even notice. But of course, I'll be back shortly."

"Thanks," Sasha addressed the woman, who was already on her way out the door. She swirled the bottle with her good hand and watched the contents bubble and fizz. "Is she a secretary?"

"The best damn one I've ever had," Nick told her. He walked around the desk and sat down. "We had a few rough years not too long ago. People turned up missing every week. Ever since my old partner and I put a stop to the culprit, it's only ever been menial jobs from then on. Been a nice and easy streak, but I do miss the excitement." The Synth rapped his metal fingers against the desk. "Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want to do this now while we're alone. It might be painful, but do the best you can."

Piper set the pad on her knee, pen at the ready. Sasha nodded. "Fire away."

"Let's start at the beginning." Nick leaned forward. The place where an eyebrow should have been raised. "You were obviously confused about where you are. Where are you from?"

"Pandora," blurted the former con-artist. "It's a pretty big planet out ... there, somewhere." For all that was holy, she couldn't remember the name of their galaxy. How stupid was that? 

"No shit." That was Piper. "Are you serious?"

"I shit you not. I was born and raised there in Hollow Point. It's a town in a cave ... I know how that sounds, but it was fairly prosperous. And shady, given the population and reputation. Hell, my sister and I were con artists, raised by the best of the best up until he stabbed us in the back." Expression transforming into one of bitterness, Sasha quikly moved on rather than dwell on a raw subject. "But, you know ... it's not a bad planet. A little rough around the edges. Some barren deserts. Some frozen tundras. Jungles. Lots of big, nasty beasts trying to eat you."

"Not so different from here, then," chuckled Nick. "Minus the frozen tundras and jungles. I'm not sure any of those are even left. Have you ever heard of the planet Earth?"

"Sure. I think so ... I mean, I think it was mentioned in, like, a history book somewhere or something. I think we're descended from here. I dunno. I was never big on world history. Life moved too fast." Feeling their eyes on her was odd. What was stranger was that they weren't kicking her to the curb in disbelief, claiming her to be the new town drunk. "Why ... why aren't you freaking out? Do you get a lot of people who say they're from space?"

They exchanged glances. It was Piper who broke the silence. "A few years back, we had this mutual friend. She, uh ... she was cryogenically frozen for 200 years."

"And a few weeks ago, some caravaneers came upon a crashed UFO," Nick joined in. "We've witnessed teleportations, Ghouls who had lived for longer than 400 years, the experimentation of a serum that locked somebody's age in place so long as it was continually administered and, well, let's just say things have always been strange here since the Great War."

"The Great War?" 

"It's a story for another time, Sasha. Right now let's focus on the perogative." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, leaving several questions hanging in the Pandoran's throat. "So what were you doing, before you came here?"

"Well, we had just taken down a Vault monster and - "

" - A Vault? Which one? Where?" Piper's excitement was clear, but Nick put it down quickly.

"She isn't from Earth, Piper. I don't think she means one of our Vaults."

Sasha was surprised. "You have Vaults?"

"I sorely doubt they're on in the same," jumped in Nick, attempting to stifle a drawn out conversation before they got distracted again. "Our Vaults were man-made, designed to keep people safe in the event of a nuclear war. What were your's?"

"Oh." Sasha's face fell. "Our's were literally Vaults. They were virtually safe-boxes that housed ancient alien technology, weapons, and the like. Finding one is a huge task because they appear and reappear on a whim and you need a specific key to unlock it. And even if you get in, there's no guarantee you'll be alive to get to the treasure inside ... and there's no gaurantee there will be anything there to begin with. There's Vault Guardians - monsters big and small that'll kill you as soon as look at you. The Vault we found had only one monster. It was a Guardian called the Traveler, a stone golem that was easily as tall as ten buildings stacked on top of each other. And he could teleport."

"This only happens on Pandora? The appearances of Vaults, I mean?"

"Well, no ... They could happen anywhere I guess. But Pandora's a magnet for them. Nobody really knows why." She shrugged, not really sure how to answer. "The alien race that created them were called Eridians. And there've been a lot of Eridian ruins unearthed on Pandora and Pandora's moon, Elpis."

She waited for them to say something. In their absence of words, the Pandoran continued.

"We'd just gotten done beating the Traveler. There were eight of us at the time, and it took a lot of effort to bring the thing down. But once it died, it dropped a bunch of loot - guns, shields, money. A lot of cool and rare items."

"I wish our monsters would do that," mumbled Piper.

"So we started grabbing whatever we could find. Two of our group got curious, took off for the Vault gateway. We figured we'd catch up to them but when we did ... " Sighing, Sasha scratched the back of her head. "They were long gone."

"They just vanished?" Nick's metal fingers were probing his cheek now, thumbing it in concentration and, from what Sasha could tell, partial disbelief. 

"When we got inside, there was noting but a big room with a single chest in the middle of it. It'd lready been opened. There was no way in or out of the room unless they'd come from the main doorway, and that wasn't possible. We never saw them. They could have fallen because there was a pretty steep drop around the chest but it just ... wouldn't have made any sense. And then the Siren appeared."

"Siren?"

"They're humanoids that share some kind of link to Eridians. All of them have special powers attributed to phasewalking or jumping between plains. We have at least two on Pandora, and both are well-known Vault Hunters. But the one we saw inside the Vault ... She was just this little girl." She frowned hard. Thinking back on it, Sasha had been pretty harsh on the kid. But in the heat of the moment, thinking that either Fiona or Rhys were dead ... "She said she teleported them here to 'help her mama'. That she thought she accidentally gotten one of them killed ... I ... I wasn't thinking. I demanded her to bring me to them, grabbed her arm. She screamed and ... the next thing I knew, I was falling."

"And you wound up here," Piper finished. She scribbled some lines down and looked up. "I know Nick is kinda rushing it because we don't know when Ellie will be back with Doctor Sun. But I'd like to probe you with questions more when we get a chance to be alone again."

"That's fine, I guess." Sasha felt oddly numb. There was no explaining that foreboding sensation.

"We _will_ ," Nick explained, standing up and leaning forward, "talk more about all of this. I understand you have a lot of questions. Mainly about where and when you are. And you can believe me, we definitely want to know more from you. But the good doctor will be here any minute. I think the last order of business for right now is just their physical descriptions. What are their names, and what do they look like?"

"Shit, um ... Well, there's my sister. Her name's Fiona. She's about my height. But she's light-skinned and wears this bowler had. Brown hair, got a red streak in her bangs ... and there's an old scar on her right eyebrow. It kind of splits it in two." Sasha rubbed her arm anxiously. "And Rhys. You can't miss him. The guy's gotta be at least six foot and he's built like a twig. Brown hair. But they key features for him are pretty obvious. His left eye is yellow and cybernetic and his right arm is silver, mechanical."

Nick definitely looked curious now. "A Synth, like your's truly?"

Sasha shook her head. "No. They're more like prosthetics.."

Nodding his head, the detective started for the back of the room. Only by craning her neck did Sasha see the small, old-school radio connected to the wall. "You sit tight. I'm gonna put an APB out for them first to see if we can gather any leads. It took a lot of effort from a few great people, but the Commonwealth is connected now. It's easy to transmit information, and everybody is normally willing to lend a hand."

He sauntered to the radio. Sasha looked tiredly at the Nuka Cola bottle, hesitantly taking her first sip of the fizzing drink as Nick droned his report. It was sweet, but burned a lot going down. Vocalizing this, Piper laughed.

"That would be the radiation." Sasha stared at her with a mouth full of soda pop. The reporter raised her hands in defense. "Hey, I wish I was joking." 

A very terse swallow later and the Pandoran hustler glared. "Holy shit!" she yelped, jerking the bottle away from her. "Is this gonna kill me?"

"It's a minor dose, so no, it won't." But Sasha put the bottle down and was wiping her tongue with her fingers. Piper burst into laughter. "Oh yeah, like _that's_ going to do any good."

"What is _wrong_ with you people?!"

"Apparently, a lot."

Doctor Sun stepped in a few seconds later. He was a limberly-built man with eyes slanted in such a way that they made him look permanently angry. But he was gentle in his care of her arm, though Sasha was less than appreciative of the 'Stimpack'-needle that got jammed into her flesh ... although it did make everything feel a little better. Sun was quick and he was quiet. Never once did he speak. She gathered the impression that broken limbs were just one of the many things he dealt with on the day-to-day judging by both his silence and his speed. The fractured limb was casted and slung within ten minutes. And as quietly as he entered, he left (in a hurry. Clearly he was a busy man with a long schedule.)

And in ten minutes, Nick was still repeating his lines over the radio. "This is Nick Valentine of Diamond City, issuing an APB for two - "

Static responded. It was vigorous at first. Gradually it cleared, making way for a very relaxed male voice. _"Niiick, you old dog! Deacon here. I haven't heard your sunny voice in a long time! How's my favorite tin can on legs doing?"_

Those were the only words Sasha had been able to hear. Ellie decided now was an appropriate time to strike up conversation with Piper. Despite her initially annoyance with the reporter, the two appeared to know each other quite well. There were talks of dessert, families, how was Piper's sister holding up ... and then Nick was striding past them both. There was a purpose to his gait and a grim look upon his dried, leathery flesh that triple-knotted the anxieties slowly forming in her stomach.

"There's good news, and there's bad news. But either way, I hope you're up for a brisk walk through the sunny wasteland, because we need to leave here right away."

"Shouldn't we stock up?" Piper quipped, losing all interest in her engrossing talk with Ellie. Nick's head waved in disagreement.

Sasha was on her feet, the weight of her cast forcing her to wobble a little. That cold feeling was starting to spread from her chest. "What's the good news?"

He didn't stand still while he answered. Nick's robot legs moved him quickly out of the agency and into the Diamond City proper. "Your sister is just fine. A few dings and scratches but no worse for wear."

While that relieved her significantly, that left only the bad news. And that could only be coupled with - 

"Rhys ... what about Rhys?"

Had they really walked that far? Already, the three of them were practically hopping up the stairs leading outside Diamond City. Piper stumbled behind them, cursing, "Damn it, Nick!" as she tripped on the first step.

It dimly occurred to Sasha that she was about to be stepping out into the big bad Wasteland for the first time - that she was going to get her first glimpse of a 'post-apocalyptic Earth', as Nick had described it. But the yammering in her chest drummed out even the slightest hint of curiosity. When Nick answered her question with silence, Sasha ran until she was at least five steps ahead of him.

" _Nick_ , what about Rhys?!"

He came off as reluctant to answer, but he did - all while still power-walking, all while still outmaneuvering Piper (who, after a few more trips, had finally caught up to them). "The two of them landed smack dab next to a Deathclaw Matriarch's nest outside of Vault 81."

Sasha had no idea what that was, but the combination of 'Death' and 'Claw' left a lot to the imagination. Piper's reaction of, "Oh, shit ... ," further cemented her notion that it was very, very bad. "I thought they were going to get rid of the Deathclaws?"

Sasha ignored her. "So what ha - "

"He's in critical condition," Nick interrupted, deciding it best to avoid the gritty details Deacon had described in length to him over the radio. "They spent the last ten minutes trying to stabilize him, but that didn't work so they're wheeling him into surgery now." His lips pursed. "It'll take us about an hour to walk there if we're quick about it."

"Watch me cut that time in half."

It wasn't meant to be a challenge. But Sasha's vision was fuzzy and hot and her feet were moving quicker than she thought was humanly possible. Every jarring footstep sent waves of sharp pain through her arm, even with the cast holding it in place. She was acutely ware that she had no idea where she was going, but it didn't matter. Nick would tell her to turn this way or that, prompt her in the right direction. Surprisingly, they kept the pace, occasionally hang back to pick off whatever wicked thing came their way.

It didn't matter that she was walking headlong into a burned out city filled with torn buildings and ruptured asphalt. It didn't matter that she strayed from the last vestige of pavement and onto the dry, tortured grass of a radiation-drenched terrain. And it didn't matter that all of the biggest, baddest, and most violent beasts were out there waiting for something fresh to feast upon.

Right now, all that mattered was finding Vault 81.


	4. Hypoperfusion

"It's ... a cow," said Fiona disdainfully, looking over the creature with repulsion. "A really gross-looking two-headed cow."

"It's a _Brahmin_ ," scolded MacCready. A frown creased his ruggedly handsome features. The mercenary lovingly rubbed one of the brahmin's chins, cooing, "And her name is Betsy."

"Which head is Betsy?" She was rewarded with a glare. Fiona threw her arms up in defeat. "Fine, _sorry_. Her name is Betsy and she's a very nice looking ... um ... brahmin. Can we get moving now? We're burning daylight."

"If we don't go in with some provisions, we might as well be wearing dinner bells."

Her eyes flitted to the large bell tied around Betsy's throat. _Don't say anything about the dinner bell, don't say anything about the dinner bell ..._ MacCready followed her gaze and repeated the lines verbally. "Don't. Say anything. About the bell."

"Yeah, you saying that doesn't make this any easier."

Vault 81 had, luckily, been close enough to Rhys and her that the walk didn't take too much stress. Or it wouldn't have if Rhys hadn't passed out about ten steps in. She was lucky MacCready had been there to help her carry him. And she was equally lucky that the merchant MacCready had been guarding was extremely well-armed ... Fiona didn't know what a Fat Man was, but that nuclear bomb-styled explosion was impressive and terrifying at the same time. While it didn't kill the giant lizard keen on devouring Rhys for dinner and her for dessert, it definitely scalded its hide and sent it packing.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. They moved way too quickly for her to take in the sights and sounds other than some burned trees and rocks. When they stopped. they were in some metallic underground den they called a 'Vault' (that sure as shit didn't look like a Vault Fiona had ever seen, even if she had only seen _one_ ). There was an elevator ... and not even a foot out of it, Rhys had crashed and a team of doctors flooded in to revive him. It was like a tsunami of people in white lab coats - sweeping in, sweeping out, and taking the debris (Rhys) with them.

Fiona was no stranger to blood. That didn't bother her one bit. But the flecks of Rhys splattered on her coat disturbed her as much as it did seeing him so ashen and lifeless.

She wasn't sure how to feel at the time, so anger poured out like molten rock. She raged as a man named Carrington gave her a once-over and issued a clean bill of health. She raged when somebody called an 'Overseer' and another woman (Desde-something-or-other) explained that they needed some kind of bio-implant to expedite Rhys' healing or he would be dead within a day. And she raged when they called upon MacCready to find the item and not her. It took some persuasion (and a lot of thrown objects) to get them to change their minds.

MacCready was not so amused, and his snarky demeanor earned a full-scale blowout on the way up the elevator. She ranted at him about how "this shit was so fucking unfair" and how "the fuck dare he keel over now right after we just got into a goddamned Vault". But MacCready said nothing. The words rolled off him like rain off a plastic sheet. So he let her rave and holler until there was absolutely nothing left and she was left red-faced and breathing heavily. And when all of the Vault guards were cowering behind their posts from her outburst and all was silent, MacCready just chuckled, shrugged, and asked, "What is he, your boyfriend?"

Fiona made a disgusted noise. "Fuck no, he's my sister's."

"So what, he's like, your brother?"

That shut her up for a good long while, following MacCready wordlessly down one set of stairs and up another until they stepped out into a sun-warmed landscape of deadly rock and monsters. Brother? Shit. She hadn't thought about that. Fiona wondered what Rhys' expression would be if she called him that one day and was rewarded with mental image of a former Hyperion stooge and his dumbfounded jaw-drop.

Tapping her foot back in the present, Fiona's head shook. "We've got guns. What else do we need?"

"Christ, have you never fought feral ghouls before?"

"Is that what we're fighting ... ?"

MacCready stared. "Were you ... even listening to half of what Desdemona said?"

"Yes ... ?" His gaze never left her. "No, not really," she conceded. "I don't remember what we're even going there for, actually ... "

The mercenary sighed. He pulled a rucksack off of the stack piled high on Betsy's back and rifled through it. "We're looking for a Phoenix Monocyte Breeder implant. There's a place in that big city there - " he pointed to the crippled buildings lining the horizon " - that used to be the base of this group called the Railroad. An old scientific technician used to make a bunch of weird shit that could either kill you or cure all your problems. It got overrun with feral ghouls - which are like _zombies_ but really fast and mean as shit - and the hideout had to be evacuated." Fiona nodded. She really was listening this time, honest. "Tinker Tom - that's the tech - got killed in the assault but his goodies are still there. We're gonna go there and grab every little gem we can find, and then we're gonna haul ass back here so your bro doesn't bite the big one. You get me?"

"I got you," acknowledged the up-and-coming Vault Hunter. "For the most part. But ... is it just gonna be us?"

"We'll be meeting Strong - "

"Strong?"

"Yeah. And yes, that's his name." MacCready furrowed his brown in frustration. "You'll know him when you see him, believe me. But we'll all bust through there. Strong is all the melee manpower we need. I'm a marksman, and that little magic pea-shooter you've got will do good in close range - especially with those nifty little tricks it was doing on that Deathclaw. Now what bullets does it take?"

"Uh? Oh." A flick of her wrist and the copper-plated three-shotted emerged from her sleeve. "5.56 millimeter."

He pulled out two boxes of ammunition and handed them to her. Fiona was grateful for deep pockets and slipped them into her inventory.

"We'll need stimpacks and Rad-X as well," he told her while handing her several more strange-looking objects. Fiona rolled the bottle of pills over in her hand. "Radiation storms are a pretty common thing out here. If we get caught in one, we'll be soaking up rads like a sponge. The stimpacks will heal any minor injury you might get. They'll also help smaller bones mend, but don't count on them regenerating an amputated limb."

"I'll ... take your word for it, I guess?"

"It's good to hear you not try and argue with me for once." Fiona shot him a disdainful look, to which he replied, "And don't you start now. The sooner - oh hell, what are they _doing_?" Brushing aside his sickly-colored duster jacket, MacCready stood and held his hand out. He was peering across the landscape. Fiona looked to see where. "They're gonna go right through the Deathclaw nest at this rate. **_HEY!_** " Jumping and waving his hands to get the stragglers' attentions. " ** _THIS WAY! TURN RIGHT!_** "

His ruckus was enough to get three heads to look at him. It was also enough to get the Deathclaw's attention. She leered out from her cave entrance, stretching her still-soaked-in-red meat-cleaver talons. If the message wasn't clear before, it certainly was now ...

"That's Nick," muttered MacCready. "And Piper. They should know better ... " Two of the figures sprinted towards the third, who was striding in way too fast and not paying nearly enough attention. Both grabbed her shoulders and jerked her back quickly - and just in time. Noting Fiona's wide-eyed gaze, MacCready told her with an exasperated sigh that, "The Matriarch won't attack anybody who doesn't go into her territory. She won't leave her eggs unattended. There's the Alpha Male to contend with, yeah, but he won't go for folks who don't step into their turf. It's some kind of mutual understanding between the Vault-dwellers and them. I don't know."

Fiona looked positively bewildered. "Those things have an _agreement_ with humans? Then why the fuck did they attack us?"

"You landed next to the nest. The mom is super protective of her eggs. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, sorry to say. Normally they only go for raiders because they're the only ones dumb enough to march in front of the damn cave." MacCready didn't bother to hide the insult. He steadied himself for an assault of berating words, but he was lucky enough to find her distracted by other things. Well, thing. And that thing was the third person among the group: the one Nick and Piper had culled before her ass was grass.

"Is that ... ?" Fiona squinted, then jolted upright. "SASHA!"

"Fi?!" Sasha began sprinting up the hill and a fatigued Nick and Piper followed close behind. At least she'd had the sense to follow the designated path to avoid dismemberment that was pointed out to her. Fiona took off running and MacCready walked in her shadow. They met halfway and leapt into each other's arms. "Holy shit, Fi! This planet is strange as hell!"

MacCready sauntered up to Nick and Piper, giving the former an awkward half-hug and the latter a more enthusiastic one. "How the hell ya been, Nick?" he was asking. Fiona drowned his voice out.

"Pandora isn't much better," laughed Fiona, hugging her tight with consideration to Sasha's cast before releasing her. Concern clouded her judgement. "How did you even get here?"

"It's a long story. But it's just me. Vaughn and the others are still back at home." Tears brimmed her auburn eyes and she wiped them away hastily. "These two," her arms swept to the robotic man and the woman in the red coat tailing her, "brought me here. I heard about what happened ... What's a Deathclaw? Did it get you?"

Fiona felt the best answer to her primary question was to point to the monster in question. It sat on its haunches, peering at them through milky white orbs while rumbling so deep it shook the ground. Seeing it caused Sasha's face to fall. Or maybe it was the fact that there was still blood on its claws. "I got nicked, but only when I ducked out of the way," Fiona said while pointing to a small scratch on her cheek. "But, uh ... "

"It's _huge_ ," whispered the darker-skinned lady. An evident note of fear lingered in her voice. Her eyes scanned over the scenery surrounding it, locking onto another red smear decorating the cave's outer wall. Her disposition tensed considerably. "And ... Rhys?"

Despite the words forming on her tongue, Fiona found that blurting it all would be tactless. Shifting from one foot to the other with unease wasn't helping either, and it only raised her sister's anxiety. _It's better to give her some kind of an answer than none at all ... I'm sorry, sis._ "I gotta be honest, Sash. It doesn't look good." Her voice was grim. She wished she could change that and everything that was happening just to dissolve Sasha's withered look. "We, uh, we had to drag him to the Vault back there because he passed out. And they started doing CPR on him inside." _Say something positive!_ "But they brought him back. They're operating on him right now. MacCready and I are about to go into the city to find some kind of implant they need for him, though. Something that'll heal him quicker."

"A Phoenix Monocyte Breeder," explained MacCready, rubbing the dusty stubble on his chin. "It'll jack up the regeneration rate of his cells."

"Do you need any help?" Nick Valentine asked of MacCready. Tilting his hat in Fiona's direction, he introduced himself as, "Detective Nick Valentine, ma'am."

"Appreciate the offer, fella, but I think you should keep an eye on her more." MacCready grinned. "Strong's going to meet us there. If we've only got a couple of ghouls to worry about, this'll be a cakewalk."

"I'm Piper Wright." The reporter watched Sasha's mouth open and close sadly and gingerly touched her shoulder in a show of subtle support. "We should ... probably get her inside."

Fiona agreed, but pulled her sister in for a tighter embrace. "It'll be okay, sis. We'll handle this. We always do, don't we? Besides, he's handled a homicidal maniac living in his head, a fall from space, and generally getting the crap beaten out of him. He might be more stubborn than you." At least that got a stifled laugh from Sasha. It was better than nothing.

The mercenary stepped up to Fiona, lightly tapping her on the back to get her attention. "We should go. If we hurry, we'll be back before the sun sets."

Sighing deeply, Fiona kissed Sasha's forehead and pulled away. "Go keep him company. We'll be back as quick as we can. Don't lose hope, okay?" Sasha gave a numb little nod. As she took her first few steps towards Vault 81, Fiona looked to Nick and Piper. "I know we really don't know each other, but thanks for getting my sister here ... Could you, uh, keep an eye on her?"

"Of course," Piper firmly stated, following the distracted Pandoran's ascent up the hill.

Nick held back, hesitating. "MacCready's a crack shot and Strong, though extremely brash, is true to his name. They'll take care of you. Just make sure you stay in one piece. Sasha is going to need your support more than anything else."

Fiona winked. "Don't worry, I've got more than one trick up my sleeve." With that said, the gun vanished beneath her sleeve. "C'mon," she called behind her, pacing herself downhill. MacCready was next to her in under a second.

"That was your sister?" he asked, perplexed.

"Yeah."

"She doesn't look anything like you."

"We're not," Fiona explained to him, not surprised that the topic came up, "technically related. No biological connection, you know? But we were both orphaned, both grew up together ... So whether or not we're blood, we're still siblings."

"You have a strange, but charming, family." She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.

"What about your family? I mean, to raise you they must have been a little odd."

He laughed, which was unexpected considering the question posed to him. "I grew up in a town of children. Little Lamplight, it was called. I was actually the mayor there for a couple of years. Our parents sent us there with the idea that, if we were forcibly taught to look out for ourselves from a young age, we would live a lot longer. It wasn't conventional, but it was a good idea. A lot of us survived as long as we have because of it." Giving her a sideways smile, he continued. "Have you ever heard of it? It's out in the Capital Wasteland."

"Yeahhh ... about that ... " The Pandoran was hesitant. "I'm not actually ... _from_ here? Like, from this planet?"

"Bullshit. What chems have you been smoking?"

"Never touched a drug a day in my life." Contorting her face into a mix of shy amusement and honesty, Fiona crossed her arms behind her back. "We've got some travel time between here and the Railroad headquarters ... and I'm fucking screaming on the inside but trying hard as hell not to show it ... so how about it? I tell you about my home, you tell me about your's?"

MacCready's face was completely unreadable. For a moment he was completely skeptical, his eyebrows doing this funny thing where they crouched so low that they twitched uncontrollably. But then he was completely blank. A long moment of silence passed between them. Then, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt just because I've never seen a gun do anything like your's does, but I think you're a crackpot. I'll humor you, though ... But you first."

Clapping her hands together, Fiona started with, "I was born on this planet called Pandora ... "

_________________________

 

Sasha was trying very hard to distract herself.

And it was very hard to do because every time she looked down, she was seeing drag marks and blood streaks leading to the Vault entrance - which would have been glamorous and awe-inspiring if not for her pending dread and the reality of her very surreal situation. Her boots were soon smacking against metal stairs, then linoleum floors. And everything looked pristine and clean and white ... except for the crimson trail of morbidity that lead to the very elevator they had to take down.

She didn't know them well at all, but Sasha was secretly grateful for Piper and Nick's presence throughout. The reporter kept a constant hand on the crease of her good arm as if to keep her tethered to reality when she wanted nothing but to float off. Nick the Synth (whatever a Synth was) made it a point to strike up some kind of pointless conversation as the elevator brought them down, mainly to help her get over the thick stench of copper.

They were greeted by an array of faces downstairs. A woman who introduced herself as the Overseer kept her words (welcoming her to any amenities she required) brief and concise, having noted Sasha's disembodied state and not wanting to stress her any more than she already was. It was a simple gesture, but one the Pandoran was grateful for.

Nick and Piper walked her along the hall because, after a while, she simply stopped looking down. Sasha felt like she'd glided the whole way. They halted before a large metal door, but it wouldn't open. The red light above it indicated that it was locked, but through the observation window Sasha could see that it was a medical facility. Another closed door was in the back of the lab. This one also had an observation window, but it was blocked out by a dark sheet of cloth. A flurry of movement behind it kept it flapping.

A man in a blue and yellow jumpsuit approached, telling them that the medical facility would be locked until the doctors were finished doing what they had to do. He advised them to sit and offered coffee. Sasha didn't remember saying yes, but she found herself holding the heated mug, staring listlessly into its contents.

There was a shared silence between the three of them that lasted until the ceramic item in her hands became cold. Finally, her lips parted. "Distract me." Her throat felt awfully parched.

Piper spoke first. "What would you like to hear?" she said softly.

"I ... I guess tell me about Earth." She took one painstaking look at the lab door. "It's gonna be a while before they let me see him. We might as well kill the time ... I ... don't know how long I'll wind up staying here, after all." That was certainly a thought, wasn't it? With the flow of events, Sasha hadn't even stopped to consider how in the world they would all be getting back to Pandora. _**If** we all get back ..._

Piper looked at Nick, who seemed thoughtful and grim. "Where do we start?"

"Might as well hit it from the beginning."

"From the way you described Pandora," began Nick, piecing together his words carefully as he spoke, "I believe we may have, at one point, shared a timeline. But the events leading to Pandora's exploration didn't happen in our timeline. That's where your reality splits off from our's. Our world is made up of different continents and ... Piper, would you mind finding me a globe? We might as well fill you in as fully as we can so you can best understand what it is you're looking at."

The reported nodded and vanished. She reappeared a minute later with a circular object secured by a beam of steel. It spun wildly when she pressed her finger upon it. Sasha allowed her eyes to rove over the item. "Earth, huh?"

A slender metal finger pointed to a spot on one of the larger continents marked on it. "This," he said, "is where we are. We're in a country called the United States of America, in the state of Massachusetts. Not so long ago, we were among one of the many superpowers on Earth ... We, along with every other nation on this planet, have faced wars and long-standing rivalries with other countries. Some were bitter and bloody while others only led to tension and great change. In 1939 ... "

_________________________

 

"So you guys all relied on nuclear power?" asked Fiona incredulously. By this point they had arrived in Boston and were steadily making their way to the Old North Church. MacCready hadn't lied when he said she would know who Strong was when they saw him. Fiona never knew what a Super Mutant was, and she still didn't quite understand. But MacCready promised he would get to that. Strong was impressing the hell out of her, though. They'd seen their first feral ghouls upon passing the city's threshold. A single strike from a massive weapon made of rebar and concrete not only sent them flying, but splattered them into several pieces.

"Strong love to fight!" he hollered in a testosterone-fueled rage. "Follow me, puny humans!"

Keeping the pace, the mercenary nodded to Fiona. "Yeah. Looking back on it, it was a really bad idea - "

"- Yeah, no shit."

"But at the time, we thought it was clean energy." He stepped over a mutilated corpse that had once been a trader and made a face. "Oil was running out and nuclear energy seemed almost completely limitless. That didn't stop the demand for oil, though. The U.S. had one of the last remaining stockpiles of it in Alaska - that's a state way to the north of here, up where it's cold and icy. China, another superpower, was keen on taking it from us. Soon we dove right back into war."

"Why humans talk so much?" growled Strong. His small head looked back over his brutish shoulder. "Almost there. Be ready!"

"He isn't one for, uh, _meaningful_ conversation, is he?"

"You should hear him when he stays in a settlement for too long."

_________________________

 

At least an hour had passed and still there was no sign of anything different from the medical lab. So Nick continued with his story. Sasha admitted gladly that it was distracting enough to keep her mind off of other things - or at least it was until she strayed a glance over her shoulder, or at the floor ... Luckily somebody was coming their way with a mop and none of them would have to see the grim reminder of death.

"Vault-Tec created massive underground Vaults, like the one we're sitting in now. They built a couple of hundred of them, I believe, scattered all throughout America. You had to meet specific standards to get into each one. For instance, one was dedicated to those of musical talent. Another, for politicians."

Piper threw in her knowledge. "It was mostly a ploy. 'Come to the Vault and be safe in the event of a nuclear holocaust!' Of course the people inside survived, but Vault-Tec took this opportunity to use their population as human guinea pigs. Each Vault had some hidden reason for existing in the first place. The one we're in right now had a hidden section that Blue - " Sasha had come to the understanding that 'Blue' was a mutual friend between her and Nick " - and I found, They were experimenting on Mole Rats, creating viruses and serums. They would then infect the populace to see the effects."

Sasha's face contorted into disgust. "That's wretched. Why do that to their own species?"

"Your guess is as good as our's," Nick shrugged his shoulders. "It was probably an attempt to made humans hardier as a whole, but some of the experiments were just ... sick. But like Piper said, the Vaults did their job of keeping people alive - for the most part. When the bombs dropped in 2077, those underground were saved from the nuclear hellfire. Those above ground were not so lucky. A few were able to hold out based on their geographic location alone. Some completely avoided the radioactive fallout. But those caught in the blast were either killed or suffered the effects of extensive radiation poisoning. They mutated into Ghouls, like the one's you've seen in Diamond City."

Surprised, Sasha asked, "So Hancock is pre-war?"

"Hell no," Piper laughed. "He's a drug addict, always searching for that permanent high. One day he got ahold of something that was laced with uranium. It made him into what he is."

"What about the other things? The Deathclaws?"

"They were actually genetically modified before the bombs dropped. I think they were meant to replace soldiers on the battlefield. All that radiation got to them like it did everything else, though, and it made them into the tough, resilient bastards you see today."

_________________________

 

" ... So that's how it ended. We were all there to watch the Prydwen fall. Everybody but Danse." MacCready sighed as he rummaged through Tinker Tom's unusual cache of items.

Clearing out the catacombs had been easy. Clearing out the Railroad Headquarters? Not so much. Fiona never knew zombies could glow. but the firefight was interesting and memorable: the three of them against three dozen feral ghouls. It was too close-quarters for MacCready to wield his sniper rifle, so he'd resorted to a serrated machete. Strong had no qualms about slamming several of them with his bare fists. And Fiona's tiny gun had the pleasure of melting many of them down to the bone with acid. The ground was riddled with decimated and disfigured corpses. That gamey smell was overpowering.

"Danse was ... infuriated. He wouldn't listen to reason and stormed off." The merc with a mouth looked sadly through one of the many cabinets, plowing his hand through like it was filled with candy. "I know Nora regretted doing what she did. Especially since they were in love with each other. But it had to be done. Maxson was insane. He would have had every mutant and robot wiped from the face of the Earth, whether they were good or bad or didn't give a fuck. Nick, Strong, Hancock, and every other good person ... gone, eliminated like insects."

Fiona was on the ground, going through some of the items that had fallen during the skirmish earlier. "It had to have been rough. Did you guys have a lot of friends in the Brotherhood?"

"A couple of the scribes and proctors were outstanding people. I ... I'd like to think some of them made it out, but there's no way to know ... We haven't seen or heard from any BoS member since then. It's probably for the best, really. They and the Institute would fire upon the Minutemen and the Railroad in a heartbeat. It's a shame they didn't want to cooperate ... Under those two flags, the Eastern Commonwealth has started to really prosper again."

Something metal clanked against Fiona's searching wrist. She moved several folders and papers aside to see a small metal tin that was taped shut. "Huh," she grunted, peeling the masking tape off with her fingernails and pulling the lid off. She was expecting some secret stash of money or rare coins. The disappointment was palpable when she saw the container held nothing but bottle caps. "Who keeps crap like this?" she scowled, closing the lid and tossing it aside.

Surprisingly, MacCready made a dive for it. "I'll take those!"

"What the hell for? They're useless."

"They're _currency_ That's money on Earth?" Fiona was on her feet. She held a hand out. "I'll take them back now. Finder's keeper's."

"And **you** gave them up, so ... Loser's weep- "

He was definitely not expecting her fist to go flying into his face. In his shock at both her action and her brute strength, MacCready dropped the tin into Fiona's nimble hands and hit the ground hard. Strong erupted into an uproar of laughter from the back of the room.

"Squished like a Radroach!" he roared.

"Something you should probably learn quickly," flaunted Fiona as she emptied the tin's contents into her coat pocket, "is that I really don't play nice when money is concerned." She winked at MacCready as he sat straight, rubbing his cheek and groaning.

"Is it bad," he guffawed, "that I think that was kinda hot?"

Fiona lobbed the empty tin at his head. He sank like a sack of potatoes. Lying on his back, MacCready rolled his eyes to the side and mewled happily.

"I think I found what we came for." Fiona and Strong both made their way over to his supine body. Just out of his reach was a floor safe, positioned securely under what had been Tinker Tom's chemistry lab. "Can you pick a lock?" he asked Fiona directly. "I mean, you were a thief on Pandora, right? I'd do it, but I can't see straight right now." He moaned, rubbed the back of his skull. "Damn good arm ... "

A bobby pin was procured from Fiona's coat. "Don't worry," she told him coyly. "I've got this."

_________________________

 

"Sasha?"

Somebody announcing her own name to her caught her rapt attention. Another hour had passed. One hour and thirty-four minutes. The clock perched on the opposing wall had not been helping her cause when Nick was finished giving his history lesson. Piper was slumped backwards in her chair, quietly snoring away. Nick, who finally explained what a Synth was, did not need to sleep ... or anything else for that matter. He sat stoic and firm, throwing Sasha an occasional smile by way of reassuring her. Something about his presence made her feel warm and welcome. No wonder everybody seemed to know who he was.

"Yes?" She looked up attentively, scouting for the source of the voice. To her surprise, it had come from behind her. The medical door was open. An elderly man with gray hair combed to the right and kind eyes surrounded by crow's feet was looking down at her. She couldn't get a grasp on his expression - it seemed oddly neutral - but there was definitely some compassion in there.

"My name is Doctor Forsythe. You can come in now." A hand extended to her. She took it, wearily climbing to her feet. "We've done everything we can for now, but I'm going to go ahead and warn you that his appearance might upset you."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Valentine asked. Those glowing Synth eyes were ever-piercing and robotic but somehow benevolent. Sasha shook her head and the detective nodded back in understanding. "I'll be here if you need me."

The Doctor stepped briefly to the side to allow three other doctors to leave the room before showing Sasha in. The main room was empty, but the back room ... Well, the black cloth had been removed from the observation window. Sasha could clearly see x-rays plastered against a backlight. She was no doctor, and had no medical training whatsoever, but it was clear to her what was portrayed on them.

"He's far from out of the woods," Forsythe was telling her. Sasha felt that drifting sensation again. "In fact, he's been teetering between decompensated and irreversible shock for a while. But we've managed to get both his heart rate and blood pressure up, if not by much. I .. can give you the whole run-down if you want me to. I don't suspect this is easy for you. But I will tell you that once your sister gets back with the implant, we expect his condition to rapidly improve."

Sasha thought for sure she was ready for this after two hours of keeping her mind off of it. But her knees rapidly became weak. She hastily found a seat before she dropped to the floor.

This couldn't have been the same supernerd who'd ousted Handsome Jack once and for all. Not the same one who tried, and failed, to choke a bandit and not the same one who'd shyly tucked a flower behind her ear with all the bravado of a nervous high school virgin.

His skin was way too pale. Sasha reached out to touch it and had to hold her hand in front of him for a moment to observe the stark contrast between his flesh and her own. He's always been a little pasty, but not that much. She touched his cheek and drew back upon the chill that emanated from him.

Several dressings were wrapped about him - one upon his head, extending to cover his left eye, and another around the breadth of his abdomen. All of them sported flecks of red and she imagined there were stitches underneath. _What happened to his eye?_ His right, human eye was surrounded by a dark black mark. Some kind of tube protruded through the left chest wall, close to his collarbone. The arm on that same side was wrapped in a cast like her own except it contained the entirety of his limb, not just the forearm and elbow. Several wires were running to his chest, attaching him to a heart monitor that _bleeped_ every few seconds.

Perhaps the most gut-wrenching sight was the endotracheal tube inserted into his throat ... and the fact that it was hooked to a ventilator. She didn't need to practice medicine to understand what that meant.

A sinking feeling snatched at her heart and pulled it well past her belly. "Go ahead," she said shakily. "Give me the run-down."

Doctor Forsythe looked conflicted about this, but he was a doctor. It was his job to deliver bad news.

"He's sustained skull fractures to the temporal and frontal bone. The trauma lead to intracranial bleeding and it's been wreaking havoc on his body's ability to compensate." His arm indicated the EKG. Sasha noted Rhys' vital signs were both being displayed. She was pretty sure 78/50 was a pretty bad number to have. "The circle you see under his eye is from the bleed in his head. His other eye ... He, ah, was struck hard enough for it to actually blow out, cybernetics and all. Desdemona has a replacement handy, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." _Code for 'if he survives'_ , thought Sasha vacantly. "Several broken ribs resulting in a collapsed lung. The tube is there to keep air from building up in the space around the lung, therein keeping pressure off the heart. His entire left humerus is shattered and the blunt force trauma ruptured his spleen, which we were able to fully repair. He ... hasn't been able to breath on his own."

Fosythe placed an uneasy hand on her shoulder - something everybody seemed to be doing here lately.

"Rest assured, we will continue doing everything we can. I have no intentions to leave the lab. I'll be here in case anything changes. You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish." Removing his fingers, the doctor turned towards the door. "I'll give you some time alone."

His silence didn't do much to alter the mood. Sasha wasn't much into feeling anything at that given point in time. She could do nothing but stare on and on at the forced rising and falling of his chest and listen to the beeping of his cardiac monitor. Occasionally she would look at the bouncing of his heart rhythm. It changed from time to time, becoming faster or slower but never by much. Sasha swallowed heard and covered her eyes.

"Damn it, Rhys."

There was no way this was happening. Her gut made it feel as though she'd swallowed pure lead. She thought back to the moment when they all - herself included - thought she was going to die. How Rhys had wept like a baby, admitting that he'd always kind of hoped tears could heal people. It had been funny, looking back on it after the fact. Now she wondered why she couldn't conjure tears of her own. Crap, she certainly _felt_ like she could.

But here she was. Totally powerless.

She hated that.

Sasha reached for his robotic hand and held onto the index finger as if that would give her some kind of an answer. Nothing. He was completely still. She exhaled, burying her forehead against the side of his cot and closing her eyes. Maybe she'd fall asleep and wake up to find it was all just a bad dream. She'd be back in the caravan and they'd be leaving the Vault together to celebrate their victory.

She felt his hand tremble under her's.

"Rhys?" Jerking her head up rewarded her with nothing. He was still in the same catatonic state as he was before. Maybe she had drifted off and dreamed it.

But then his heart monitor kicked in. It was picking up the pace, losing rhythm in favor for speed. And his mechanical hand was positively shivering now. Sasha sank backwards, feebly calling for the doctor, and without warning Rhys' entire body writhed into a painful arch. Red splashed across the bandage of his stomach, accompanied by the sickening sound of popping stitches. His fingers splayed open, began scrabbling for something - _anything_.

Sasha was at his side in an instant. "DOCTOR!"

Still twisted into a position of horrible discomfort, Rhys' mouth snapped open and then clamped down hard on the ET tube, teeth piercing through the thick plastic. And his eye - his good eye - opened spontaneously, his whole pale face contorting into an expression of pure terror she had never seen him do before. His pupil was the size of a pinhead and it rapidly scanned the ceiling, seeing but not seeing. The way he kept pushing himself backwards made it seem like he was trying to get away from something, and his mechanical arm kept grabbing at the area around his throat, trying to rip something away that simply didn't exist.

A flurry of footsteps raced in behind her. Suddenly she was surrounded by the doctors who were there previously and they were working with all the velocity of a well-organized hurricane.

"Shit, he bit through the tube!"

"Bag him!"

"I need Med-x! We're going to have to sedate him!"

Sasha knew she was in the way, but she found it impossible to leave. She grabbed his robot forearm with her good one and leaned in. "Rhys, it's okay!"

She wasn't prepared for the vice-grip he'd launched upon her limb and she screamed first in surprise and then in pain as he dug in ruthlessly. The reaction was almost instantaneous, and as soon as she cried out his grip loosened. Sasha began to draw back, but not before first setting one final glance at his face.

At his eye.

The eye that was now staring directly at her.

It had softened considerably, mixing something of sorrow and fear in such a way that she felt as though he was asking her, _What's happening to me?_ But as the doctor pushed something into his veins meant to knock him out, the eye struggled to stay open and slowly closed on her and the whole world.

She didn't remember running out of the medical clinic. She didn't remember where she had been planning to go - there were some vague thoughts of brutally murdering a Deathclaw with her bare hands or punching the nearest person in the face. Nor did she recall what Nick had yelled to her. But she did remember Piper, who appeared from seemingly nowhere to wrap her arms around Sasha and pull her back and hold her still. "Hey, hey! It's okay!"

With no way to run, the walls just kind of crumbled down. Piper sank with her to the floor, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder.


	5. Stolen Kisses

It took the doctors roughly thirty minutes to clear the room and another forty for a pacing Sasha to gain enough courage to go back in. Piper and Nick followed her in this time, providing something solid for her to metaphorically lean on in case the need arose again. 

Rhys was intubated again, the tube held in place with the assistance of a bite block in case another seizure kicked in. The bloodied bandages of his abdomen were replaced with clean ones. But nothing else had changed. He was back to being the pale, lifeless visage that had distraight her so terribly not long ago at all. Sasha knew that hoping he'd have miraculously recovered in the time the doctors were with him was a stupid thing to dream about, but she'd give anything at this point to see him sitting on the edge of the cot with that goofy, beaming grin that lit up every time he saw her.

 _Or the sweaty palms,_ thought Sasha, and the corner of her mouth cracked into the weakest smirk.

There had been several close calls in the caravan those few weeks they travelled together, hunting for pieces of Gortys - speed bumps bringing their faces less than an inch from each other, casually falling asleep next to each other on the sofa and awakening in an awkward entanglement, and of course there were the odd stares she'd caught him in the middle of. There were several times when she returned the favor, of course (because really, he was _cute_ ). And whenever he'd notice, he would turn beat red with a 99.9% chance of nervous fingers dropping whatever he was holding.

"I like the tech," Nick said, bringing Sasha out of her collective - and depressing - memory. "But how did he lose his arm?"

She thought about it for a second. "Wrestling a badass skag."

"Whoah, really?" piped in Piper. Sasha informed them some more about Pandora hours prior, so the beast's name wasn't lost on her. 

The former con-artist shook her head. "Not really. Rhys used to work for this soul-sucking corporation called Hyperion. They were big on robotics and crap like that ... He was in programming, figured getting ahold of some cybernetic implants would give him a leg - ah - _arm_ up in a promotion. It didn't, and it wound up biting him in the ass later, but also saved our lives a couple of times. I watched him hack a bunch of electrical systems with that thing and his eye."

Valentine was grinning, flexing his own robotic hand. "A man after my own metal heart," chortled the Synth.

"Nicky's our very own expert hacker," Piper explained. "Cracked quite a few terminals back when we all travelled in a group with Blue."

"Is he still with that Hyperion group?" 

"Nah," replied Sasha. Somehow talking to them was making her feel better by the minute. For complete strangers, they were more than eager to lend their time and patience. She wondered if everybody on Earth was like that and then reminded herself that Rhys would be dead on the cold, hard ground outside if they weren't. "This asshole named Vasquez killed the guy who was supposed to promote him. Stuffed him in an airlock and shot him into space - yeah, Hyperion was like _that_ ," she said to Piper and Nick's astonished expressions. "Then he demoted him to a janitorial position. So Rhys came up with this scheme to find a Vault Key ... "

There was some more in-depth explaining for her to do there, so Sasha delved as deep as she could - recounting the con involving ten million dollars and a fake Vault Key and how it moved onto be something bigger than all of them. She talked about the Nakayama implant and Handsome Jack, Vallory and her goons, Loader Bot, Gortys, and Athena. She hesitated at the point of the story in which Helios crashed because she could only tell them what had happened to her and Fiona. What happened to Rhys, after all? It wasn't like they' had time to catch up before taking down the Traveler.

Immediate guilt swept up at the thought of leaving him behind on a doomed space station. She could only imagine what thoughts crept into his head whenever he landed on Pandora with no friends in sight. 

Coming to a close with the opening of the Vault and the destruction of it's Guardian, Sasha found her eyes wandering back over to the comatose man with the metal arm. Rhys commented once before this whole mess that Atlas silver looked a lot better on him. She agreed initially, but in comparison to his white, almost-dead flesh right now, it made him look like a frozen corpse.

Sasha's orbs found the EKG machine again. Her pupils followed the bouncing of his cardiac rhythm. 78/52 with a bounding pulse of 134. How tired was his heart from keeping his body alive?

"WE GOT IT!"

That roaring, excited voice booming down the hallway could only belong to one woman. Sasha jumped to her feet, sprinting for the door. 

"HEY SASHA, WE GOT IT!"

Fiona came skidding to a halt in front of the medical lab, holding open a bag of several little objects that looked like microchips with different emblems on their backs. Each microchip was encased in sealed plastic. As Sasha clapped her hands together, brimming with excitement and just the smallest trace of hope, Fiona looked over her shoulder and into the operating room where Rhys' body lay. Her face twitched into a grimace. It was the first time, Sasha realized, that Fiona had actually seen him since the doctors took him off her hands at the elevator.

"How's he doing?" Sasha wasn't exactly sure what to say, so she just closed her mouth and shook her head. Fiona's arms dropped to her sides. "Shit, Sash," she cooed, pulling her sister into a hug. "It's not over 'til it's over. Where's the good doctor at?"

"Right here." Forsythe was in the medical lab the entire time, sweeping from his desk to stand next to Sasha. He held his hand out to her. "Excellent work on finding the chips. Please, I don't mean to be rude, but the sooner we get the Monocyte Breeder in him ... "

Fiona dumped the bag into his outstretched hand. "Normally I'd ask for pay, so how about this? Just make him _better_." She glowered at the doctor, who didn't seem perturbed in the least. Throwing one more troubled look over Sasha's shoulder, she gave her sister once final squeeze and slipped down the hallway past MacCready, who had finally just caught up. "I'm gonna ... find some food." 

The mercenary sighed. "I'll show you where it is."

"She's a little ... distant," came Piper's voice. She and Nick were standing in the doorway to the operating room now. 

Doctor Forsythe took a step in their direction. "Some people cope in different ways. Now, I'll only be about ten minutes, but I'll need you to wait outside again please."

The two Diamond City residents moved out of the doctor's way and the door closed behind them. It felt as though it took a little less time than what he anticipated, but all the same, the job was done. Doctor Forsythe removed himself from the operating room, stripping gloves from his hands and throwing them into a trash can. 

"You won't see any immediate results," he advised Sasha's inquisitive stare, "and it's likely the Breeder won't kick into effect for at least a day. But as before, you're welcome to stay for as long as you want."

"Thank you, doctor," Sasha told him honestly. She sat back in the chair she claimed next to Rhys' cot and looked over him. Where had they put the implant? The answer came in a small incision placed on his chest, just over where his heart would have been.

Hours must have passed. Day swiftly became night although Sasha had no way of knowing for the lack of windows looking outside. Fiona came several times to check in on her, offering food or a drink or _something_ and seeming a little frustrated every time she declined. ("You've gotta eat sometime, sis.") But she was, at the very least, understanding. MacCready had joined her in striking up conversation just to keep something going that was a little less morbid than the matter at hand. But every few minutes, Sasha would look at the heart monitor and feel disappointment creep in every time it never changed.

She must have dozed off at some point because when she opened her eyes once, a blanket was wrapped around her that hadn't been there before. And she was alone. Well, not really. Nick was still present, but he retreated to the medical lab to converse with the good doctor. A good look around the room brought Sasha's eyes in contact with a wall clock that read 3:36. _It's gotta be A.M.,_ she thought, surprised at being in the operating room for that long.

Since so much time passed, Sasha thought that something might have gone positive for Rhys. A quick glance at his vitals said otherwise and she gave a defeated sigh. The Pandoran touched his metallic hand and rested her head once again on the cot. She never knew her eyelids could weigh that much ... 

_When she opened them again, Sasha was back in the room underneath the Death Race. Rhys was hunched over a computer, back in the clothing he wore when they first met - blue dress-shirt, black scaled vest, those strange half-pinstriped half-flat-colored slacks and the ever-hideous skag-skin shoes. It was such a wretched ensemble, but the outfit defined him at the time. And still, it was enough to make Sasha smile - even if this was just a dream._

_She took a few steps towards him and the clanking of her shoes caught his attention. Rhys looked over his shoulder and Sasha could see that his cybernetic eye was still an electric blue. "You can't sneak up on me in an ambient room." he teased, gesturing to her shoes and the noise they were making._

_"It's easy to sneak up on you any other time," she laughed. "Also easier to scare the hell out of you." His brightened grin made her heart lurch. She found something interesting on the ground to stare at. "But it'd be better if you woke up so I can give you several more jump-scares."_

_"I'm, ah, I'm working on it, but it's a lot harder than I thought." Something in his voice was different now - a lot less naive and a lot more sincere. Hardier, she thought. She looked up slowly from her choice spot on the ground, looking him up from the legs to the head. His attire had changed into one of an up-and-coming Atlas CEO. That black attire had stunned her back on Pandora. So did the way he had his hair swept back, the way his blue ECHO eye became cat-eye yellow, and the transformation of his arm from yellow and black to shiny silver. It made him look more ... adult-like. And, she had to admit, that he made it look good. "But I can't crack the code. I've never seen something so encrypted before. I've been trying my damndest but it won't let me break through."_

_A worried look snapped across his face. He looked beyond Sasha, hesitated, and quickly strode past her - but not without throwing a sideways glance in her direction as he did so. There was that telltale reddish hue taking hold of his ears again._

_"I don't know if I can break it this time, Sasha."_

_Something gripped her chest and absolutely refused to let go. Was he really talking about hacking a program, or ... ?_

_Swinging on her heels, Sasha made to walk closer to him and stumbled backwards instead. His visage had altered in a way that confirmed her fears. She was looking at his back, upper body naked if you didn't include the extensive bandages wrapped aorund his chest, torso, head and left arm. Even in a dream he still obtained a ghostly complexion._

_"I'm just really tired ... and it hurts. Like, a lot." God, his voice sounded pained and distant. It was uncharacteristically melancholy._

_"B-But you have to." Her words surprised her. She never stuttered. "We're all counting on that implant to work. We need you back." She looked to the side, frowning. Hell, it was just a dream, right? Why not? "I need you back."_

_He turned slightly, blinking at her with a red-rimmed brown eye while his mechanical hand gingerly touched the dressing on his missing one. Rhys' ears might have flashed their canonical crimson, but his body lacked the blood to lend. "You r-really ... mean that?"_

_Sasha nodded._

_Rhys turned towards her completely, his pallor complexion a harsh contrast to the darkened room they stood in. He tread towards her, but it was slow as he struggled and stumbled on weakened legs. "I'm trying. Waaaaay too stubborn to give up that easily. Just ... will you, you know ... wait for me?" He could have been staring death in the face, but his bashful nature was showing through as strong as ever._

_It was enough to feed tears into her eyes. She wiped them away quickly before they could drop. "Of course," she told him firmly._

_The robotic silver arm twitched, stretching outwards. "Proooooooomise?" Despite his white face and blue-tinted lips, his smile was still full of life. If only he didn't look so damn exhausted._

_Sasha saw where this was going. She nodded._

_"Pinky promise?"_

_"Yes."_

When Sasha opened her eyes, the clock read 6:25. She groomed over Rhys with her vision in hopes that something had changed. But it was all static. Same vitals. Same dead skin tone. Same nothingness. Groaning to echo the pang she felt in her heart, Sasha pulled her hand back to brush her hair - now somewhat tangled and matted - out of her face. But she found that her hand was stuck on something metal. 

And tracing her arm to her hand to her fingers, found that Rhys' metal pinky was wrapped firmly around her own.

____________

"Sasha, hey, wake up!"

It was obviously Fiona yelping in her ear, and definitely her hands that were shaking Sasha's shoulders so violently that her head flopped around like alimp rag-doll. Grunting something uninteligibly, she gave a hasty swat at the nagging sister so eager to get her attention. "Ten more minutes ... "

"Nope. Wake up, sis. You're gonna wanna see this!" If it wasn't the bantering excitement in her voice, it was definitely the smashing of her own head against the the railing's of Rhys' cot as Fiona shook a little too hard that last time. Sasha jerked backwards, rubbing the sore spot while cursing. Fiona was laughing nervously. "Oh shit, sorry!"

"What are you - " The sentence never got a chance to complete itself. Her sister grabbed Sasha by the mandible and twisted her head to look at Rhys' face. It was a rewarding thing and Sasha dropped all the need to argue or yell at Fiona for whacking her damn head.

The first thing she noticed was that the ET tube was gone. It was replaced with some kind of mask which, altogether, was a lot less complex than the thing that had been running down his trachea. Rhys' chest was rising and falling on its own. The dressing around his wounded eye was removed, but the eyelid was still closed so nobody could really see what was done to it.

But the thing Sasha really paid attention to was the fact that his skin gained back some fleshy pink pigment. She touched his cheek to confirm or deny that she was hallucinating and was rewarded with warmth. 

"What ... how ... ?" she mumbled in a garbled voice. She looked at the clock. 11:20. 

"It took a little longer than I was expecting, but for somebody who was going through multi-organ failure, this is miraculous." That was Doctor Forsythe. He stood on the other side of the cot, working over Rhys' abdominal bandages with a pair of scissors. "You've got to hand it to the folks out in the Mojave. Those doctors are brilliant. And thank you," he said briefly to Fiona and MacCready (who Sasha was now aware was standing behind her and Fiona alongside Piper and Nick), "for getting all of the implants Tinker Tom left behind. It's possible for us to reverse-engineer them. You've saved the lives of hundreds of future patients."

"All in a day's work, Doc," said MacCready with a shrug. "And thanks for sending Strong off with some food. I didn't think he would, uh ... "

" ... flip over a table and start accusing people of being useless meat-bags?" chimed in Fiona helpfully. 

"Well, yeah."

"I don't know how they tolerate him at Goodneighbor," Forsythe admitted. "The smallest odd look and he loses his mind. What's left of it, anyway. Ah!" The scissors snipped through the final remaining threads of Rhys' bandage. He pulled the cloth away, proudly squaring his shoulders as he did so. "Yes, that healed very nicely."

Yesterday, Rhys spasmed and ripped his stitched wide open. Now all that was left of them was a scar, still somewhat swollen and angry-looking but a lot less worse for wear than it had been. Sasha looked at the screen where his vitals were being displayed all night to find that the monitor was no longer on. Forsythe saw her subtle movement.

"He started getting normal readings all across the board about two hours ago, so we took the EKG leads off. He's been stable ever since. The Breeder implant doesn't mend bones so well, however. We've been treating him with IV medication for that. Which reminds me ... " He procured a bottle from the counter behind him and handed it off to Sasha. She stared at the purple-tinted fluid questionably. "There's some for you. The medication can be taken both orally or intraveinously."

"What ... is it?" She popped the cap off to smell it and was surprised at its sweet aroma. 

"Hydra. Yet another medical invention from those out west. It's a combination of cave fungi and antivenom. The resulting effect is the rapid alleviation of broken bones. I want you to take one good sip of that every hour. You should be feeling better by the time the bottle's empty." That made sense. It was a big bottle. Probably one-litre's worth. "Your friend is getting a larger dose because the damage was more extensive, but I project his bones will mend fully by tomorrow. They're both spiked with a small amount of Med-X to relieve the pain that comes with bone regrowth, so you might feel a little ... inebriated."

Sasha exhaled. "Bottoms up?" One good swig later and she was wiping her mouth. It actually tasted ... refreshing. "This isn't completely irradiated like the Nuka Cola, is it?"

Forsythe laughed. "No, of course not." 

"What about his eye?" Fiona pressed, jabbing a finger in the direction. "You said it blew out. So what, is it like an empty socket now?"

"Hardly. Desdemona had a replacement for him - nothing quite so hi-tech as what he had, but it'll do for now."

"It's a Synth eye," Nick jumped in. Sasha blinked at him, trying to imagine Rhys with one of those peculiar glowing orbs Valentine had within his own face. The detective smiled at her. "Desdemona didn't know how to install it, so I handled that part. It was a little troubling trying to piece together two completely different technologies, but I'm sure it's turned out alright. Or he'll be seeing in technicolor, wich isn't all too bad once you get used to the brightness ... Whenever he wakes up, Desdemona will help him run through a diagnositc."

"Which leads me to a pressing matter of when he _does_ wake up," continued Forsythe, sweeping the floor out from under Nick. "With luck, he'll be up and about sometime today. That was really an impressive turnaround in his condition. _But_ he's not completely out of the woods. You have to remember that he suffered a very critical head injury. It's likely that he'll have some sort of side effects. Possibly memory loss or impaired motor function. Walking away with nothing to show for it is a possibility, but ... "

"We'll keep that in mind," Piper said with a firmness in her voice that ushered Forsythe to drop the subject as Sasha's head dipped a little. The doctor looked apologetic. _Shit, Rhys **did** crack his head like an egg ..._ She didn't want to think of what he'd be like without his memory, or worse ... 

Fiona squeezed her shoulders. "I told you he'd pull out of it."

Sasha laughed. "Yeah you did, sis." She leaned on the cot with her elbows out, rubbing her face and sighing like she'd woken from the worst nightmare ever imagined. 

________

When darkness was the first thing to meet him when he opened his eyes, Rhys spun into a panic. It reminded him of the mysterious Vault. And it reminded him of the expulsion into a corroded-looking planet where pain struck out like a finely-sharpened knife. Breathing rapidly, he blinked several times before the first flecks of color cascaded before him. It started out fuzzy and dim but grew brighter until he could finally make out a ceiling. A very neat, white ceiling in a very quiet room.

Where was he?

Such a plague of dreams, both good and bad, had flooded his head prior to awakening. Knives and gears and a laughing Jack and doctors and - 

"Sasha?" He twisted his head to the right, almost expecting her to be there. Nothing but an empty seat. He felt disappointed, but perhaps it was for the better. If she really dreamed her being there, then he hadn't really grabbed at her arm in a haze of pain and confusion, gripping so hard he was sure he felt her skin pop. The idea of hurting her, even if accidentally, left a grim taste in his mouth. 

He allowed his eyes to roam the room and quickly found that his left eye didn't feel the same as it used to. It was odd ... oblong, maybe. Or it just felt the way a new shoe does when you try it on for the first time. He squeezed it shut several times, and even though it felt different it still functioned the same. Well, mostly. The word 'RADS' glowered dimly in the corner of his vision, so obscure that you had to look askance to get a clear view of it. 

Huffing, Rhys sat up and found that the effort was a little more tedious than he would have thought appropriate. Surveying the area, Rhys came to the conclusion that he was in a doctor's office. He looked to the left. An IV was running into his forearm, while the upper portion of it was coated in a light cast. Light shining beyond his injury emanated from an x-ray board. Squinting at it, it took him a moment or two to realize that they were of him. They had to be. Who else had a damn hole in the side of their head like that? He looked to each picture and traced the respective part on his body. Busted ribs - his fingers brushed over a his bare chest (lingering briefly over the scar as he furrowed his brow in confusion). Several fractures in the skull - he ran his hand through his hair, greasy with sweat, dirt, and - he thought - blood. _Need a shower. Bad._ His arm, almost completely shattered above the elbow - he didn't need to feel that. The cast did enough explaining.

"Alright, Rhys," he muttered to himself, leaning forward and rubbing the bridge of his nose with a metal forefinger and thumb. "The meat grinder spat you back up."

He definitely remembered the giant lizard face looming over his own, those jagged teeth appearing eager to munch down on his limber form. So ... if he wasn't dead from Claws N' Teeth, then he'd been taken to safety and treated and ... really, where the hell was he?

"How're you feeling?"

Good to see the old synapses were still firing! The voice came from the room's front and was so sudden that he jolted backwards. It was a move he regretted instantly. His arm began to throb and he held as still as he could. 'So much ouch ... '

"Careful now." There was a woman in front of him. Bobbed reddish-brown hair bounced on a scarf. She wore attire fit for somebody living the rugged life of a traveler in the dessert: dirty vest, pale shirt, scuffed jeans and work gloves ... Despite the very serious way she spoke and held herself, he saw the apprehension marring her features.

"Where's Fiona?" he asked, sluggishly placing two and two together. The two of them had been together when everything went black for him. Considering their recent shoddy luck, he thought it possible they were stuck in a raider's camp or something and was hastily thinking of ways to get out. Of course, if they were in a raider camp, would they have bothered to heal him? _Think man, they're probably friendly._

"Your friends went to get food and clean up," she told him, folding her arms. "You've been here for two days. They were in here the whole time until about an hour ago." Friends? Like, _pleural_? He was confused and it showed. Either Desdemona didn't see it or didn't care. "I'm Desdemona, leader of the Railroad. You're in Vault 81."

" _Still_ in a Vault?" he choked.

"Probably not the same kind you're thinking ... I'll get straight to the point. I just want to run a diagnostic on your eye, make sure it's functioning right, and then I'll send you on your way so you can find your friends. Does that sound good?"

He nodded numbly, still feeling hazy. "Speaking of my eye ... "

"The original was badly damaged," said Desdemona. Rhys blinked. "Smashed your head pretty good. It was forced out, did a good bit of damage on the way. There was no way to replace it as it was, so we gave you something temporary until you can find one better suited for you." Rhys' forefinger felt the socket of the cybernetic eye and frowned. Desdemona held up a finger. "Follow my finger with your eye. Tell me if anything feels wrong."

It was a simple test - one after the other. She made sure he could see colors and movements before saying that, "Everything is good then," and removing the IV-needle from his arm. She gestured to some clothes and a towel on a chair, announcing that his old attire was a little dinged up, but they were patching it up and washing it, and that he was welcome to a shower. 

"Let me wrap your arm before you do," she told him lastly, folding some kind of plastic around his casted appendage. "You don't want to be getting that wet. You're free to wander the Vault afterwards." Simple. To the point. And then she was gone. He was glad she was. It left him with a lot of time to himself and a lot of questions burning through his aching head. 

Finding the shower was simple enough. There was one attatched to what he presumed was a medical lab - though not like one he'd ever seen before. It looked ... old-school, for lack of a better term. Definitely sterile, but something old-timey that didn't really fit with Pandora. Adding it onto the list of questions, he stepped into the bathroom and shed his dirty black pants encrusted with dirt. Feeling warm water on his skin was amost heavenly, but seeing his own blood wash down the drain was disconcerting to say the least.

The gravity of his situation didn't come until he found himself looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He expected scars and cuts and bruises. He did not expect a glowing yellow circle of an iris to be leering back at him. Rhys propped himself on the sink with his elbows, tucking his head down and suddenly feeling extremely sick.

_I just need air, that's all._

The clothes weren't fitting of him. For a man who was used to being decked out in something posh and formal, a hooded sweatshirt, a vest, and worn brown (albeit very comfortable) slacks felt so ... alien to him. He threw on the only shoes he had - as horrible as they looked with everything else - and found himself walking through a pristine white and blue hallway with stairs and buzzing conversation. 

This was a Vault?

There were signs plastered on the wall every thirty feet indicating 'Reactor', 'Infirmary', 'Diner', and 'Overseer's Office'. He sought the one that said 'Entrance' and followed its directional arrow. He didn't expect to come to a round, gear-looking door marked with the numbers '81'. There were guards on either side of him. Two were playing poker at a table to his left. The one on his right, thumbing through a magazine titled 'Guns and Bullets', watched Rhys as he came to a halt. "Oi," he called, putting down the magazine and shifting the submachine gun strapped to his back from one shoulder to the other, "did you need to get outside?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered in response. 

"A'ight. Careful out there." Rhys watched with the odd eye as the guard moved to a control panel and pressed a few buttons. A whirring alarm penetrated the air ( _whooooom whooooooom whooooooom_ ) as the gear door slid slowly out and to the side. It was apparently a lot heavier than he thought it was. Creaking, it finally set into place. "Do you need a gu - "

But Rhys was moving. He thought seeing the outside world would clear his head, get rid of that muddled disquiet. Only when he sprinted up the last set of stairs leading to a cave opening did he realize his error in judgement.

It was the smell that hit him first - the dusty, musky odor of something that had been stagnating for a long time. It was laced with acid that burned his nostrils. And then it was the vision ... what little he could see, at least. Nightfall came with extreme darkness. He couldn't see past the rusted, broken fence surrounding the Vault entrance's perimeter simply because the heavy-duty lights on either side of the cave mouth couldn't pierce that far. That was fine. There was plenty within the fence to observe. Like the multiple vehicles - ancient things from an era long lost, with an extra defining touch he couldn't place for his life - that were torched down to their metal skeletons. Several odds and ends littered the parched stone beneath his feet. Rhys walked several feet before bumping into his first skeletal remain. He reeled back as the femur bone clattered a lot louder than necessary down the rocky embankment, rolling past the fence's opening and out of sight.

About the only thing calming was the night sky, littered with brilliant stars. Even that was troubling because none of them were constellations he'd ever seen before. And in the darkness, well beyond where he stood ... gunshots and screams and a familiar-sounding roar ... 

Rhys feebly found his way past the fence, leaning against it first and then just sliding down until his butt hit hard soil. His robotic arm was the only one capable of any kind of real movement, so it went to rubbing his forehead. "Alright, alright." _Calm down, will you? At least you're alive. Not everybody can say that._ Definitely not whoever owned those shrieks in the dark. An unmistakable crunch of heavy teeth biting down on bone, and the strangled yell was silenced.

Who was he kidding? This was still Pandora. The landscape didn't look all that different. Monstrous beasts of different calibers were always rummaging around looking for food. Human remains? Pah, Vasquez's body sure didn't go anywhere after he'd been shot. That made im think of skin pizza and he retched.

But there was an element about this location that was very ... _off_. Even with specific similarities to what he was calling home nowadays, it didn't feel like it was right.

Then he remembered what he saw before the massive monster brutally sideswiped him. There were buildings, hundreds of them, all towering and standing in different stages of decay. None of them looked anything like what belonged on Pandora. That planet was full of shantytowns galore. About the only places Rhys saw with some generous thought put into their construction was Old Haven and Hollow Point, and even those were, well ... maybe lumping Hollow Point in there wasn't the best idea. 

Those vehicles, though. The only things like them on Pandora were the muscles-out cars from Hyperion. But these things were stale, straight out of a history book somewhere. Pandora sported dune buggies, not _these_. 

In his numbed state, Rhys heard footsteps approaching from behind. He didn't pay them any mind even until they came up alongside him and stopped. The fence behind him dipped backwards slightly as the stranger rested against it. Metal struck flint and smoke permeated the air. From his peripheral vision, Rhys could see the burning cherry of the man's lit cigarette.

"Good to see you up and about," came a gruff voice, thick with an accent Rhys never heard before. 

Rhys scoffed. "It'd be better if I knew where I was."

"Your friends were puzzled as all hell when they got here, too."

Closing his eyes for a few seconds and calming his breathing, Rhys took a glance over the stranger. He was astonished to see eyes like his own prosthetic staring back down at him.

"You're not human."

"No shit."

"You look really _close_ to being human."

The man puffed on his cigarette. "That's what Synths are nowadays."

"What's a Synth?" he asked, then immediately felt stupid. "Wait. It's obviously 'synthetic humanoid', right? That was a stupid question. How about where am I and how did I get here?"

"One thing at a time," said the Synth. For a being made of metal (you could see bits of it under his chin skin reflecting back light), his vocals mimicked real human emotion. They weren't stiff like the way Loader Bot talked, but flowed more smoothly and naturally like Gortys' voice. Minus, of course, the playful mannerisms and generally cheerful disposition. All in all this guy looked like an old detective you might see in a black and white film from eons past. He sure as hell sounded the part. "This is a lot to absorb, I know. You've been flirting with death like a well-dressed lady. Let your mind get settled first."

Rhys heaved a lengthy exhale. He couldn't stop rubbing the spots around his eye, a little leery about actually touching it. "This might take some time to get used to."

"I was being as delicate as I could putting it in. You're filled with a lot of circuits and tech we haven't seen before, but I think I did okay." Leathery lips pursed around his cigarette. "Pandora, huh? They said the landscape was battle-torn over there, very dangerous. But you folks seem a lot more advanced despite the terrain."

"So we're _not_ on Pandora."

"Not in the slightest."

"Then wh - okay, hold on, how are you even doing that? You don't have lungs, do you?"

The robot chuckled, flicking embers into the dark. "I do but I don't. There's your Gen I Synths that are basically walking turrets, and your Gen IIs that harbor emotion. I'm somewhere in between - a prototype. Gen IIIs got organs that function almost as well as a humans'. My lungs were a failed test."

"Sooooooooo the population here's a bunch of robots with skin?"

"No, we're just some of the many unusual things you'll see out here. I'm afraid you'll never come across another like old Nick Valentine, though." At Rhys' questioning stare, he added, "That's my name."

"Oh ... So where am I?"

"Earth."

Rhys laughed. "Right, that's funny. Because travelling back in time is a thing and - oh, you're serious aren't you?" Nick's quizzical gaze made the Atlas CEO reconsider his words. He scratched at his port-lacking temple. "But, see, that doesn't make any sort of sense because Earth's been a dead planet for something like 700 years."

It was Nick's turn to express tension. "Dead?"

"Yeah. The core went cold. It's atmosphere got sucked into space. It's a dud."

"So I guess this confirms my theory, then ... " His cigarette reaching it's life end, he rubbed the burning butt into a rock and sat down next to Rhys. "Somewhere along the line, your timeline splits up from our's. But this is Earth circa 2290."

"Those cars look like they're from the 40's." Rhys gestured to the burned out husks littering the surrounding area. 

"That's probably where the split occurred, then." His glowing orbs appeared to light up, but it was only by his expression that Rhys could tell his curiosity. "You certainly know your history. The others couldn't figure out why Earth sounded so familiar."

"Yeah, well to get on with Hyperion you kinda needed to know it ... " He trailed off, taking in the dirty ground and peculiar scents. "Earth was always described as this oasis of knowledge and crap. Why does it _look_ like crap now?"

Nick scoured his pockets for a tiny microchip. He passed it off to Rhys. "There's a lot of in-depth knowledge in tha thing. This woman named Moira from out int he Capital Wasteland made a book called the Wasteland Survival Guide. Because printing presses are hard to come by but recording equipment is, a power armor-clad lad calling himself the Storyteller adapted them to holotapes, adding more information as he came across it. I couldn't for the life of me find something that would work with that head port you've got, but hopefully you can find a way to make this thing work. I condensed it into as small an item as I could without compromising the data."

"Spoken like a true nerd," Rhys smiled as he rolled the item about between his fingers.

Nick chortled. "They said you were a master hacker on Pandora."

"Really? MASTER hacker?" A shade of red flashed his features and he grinned dumbly. "Awww, I'm flattered."

"Well _I'm_ the master hacker here, Poindexter," said Nick matter-of-factly, thumbing his chest with a metal claw.

"We'll see how long you hold onto that title, Metal-Man." Pending rivalries aside, Rhys eyed the microchip suspiciously. "This isn't, ah, going to fry my subsystems the minute I use it, is it?"

"It's safe. Checked it on myself earlier." As an afterthought, he added, "Though uploading a virus onto it would be _one_ swift way to deal with a potential contendor to my throne ... "

It was a true sight for Nick to behold as Rhys' middle finger bent backwards, exposing a sublet drive for things that didn't drive into his skull (something he wasn't so eager to do after Jack decided it would be fun to take over). He attempted to stick the chip in and found it impossible due to his partially immobile broken arm. Nick obliged him, sliding it in. The finger snapped shut as soon as Valentine drew back.

Light exploded from the center of Rhys palm. It ejected maybe half a foot into the air before forming an 8x8 window of light that just kind of hovered there. Floating in it's center was the flickering image of a tattered book cover with a handwritten title. Nick whistled.

"Color me impressed."

Rhys closed his hand and the light disappeared. "Totally worth it. Can you, uh, paraphrase for me what happened here? I mean, I'm not going to play the tape now. It seems like a lot and I wanna check up on everybody ... "

The Synth lit another cigarette. "People embraced nuclear energy. Natural resources ran dry. Tensions sparked a war that ended with nuclear warheads getting shot across the continents. Thousands of people took shelter in underground Vaults meant to withstand the blasts and the radiation for centuries - " Nick nodded over his shoulter to the cave entrance. "Some odd 200 years later, people are still struggling to survive. But they're carving their way."

"Damn." That was it. He really wasn't sure what to say. Rhys remembered the monster breathing heavily on his neck and he asked, "Mutant beasties come with the package, then?"

"Don't go out unless you're armed, or you're with somebody who's armed. If it isn't the monsters trying to kill you, it's the bandit factions and unsavory survivors keen to kill to feed themselves." His expression turned grim. "This world makes monsters out of men if you let it get to you. Too many folks these days count on violence to solve their problems. You only have to look around to see how far that got us."

Rhys thought of the burned out buildings haunting the planet's horizon. _How many people,_ he thought, _wound up getting killed in that?_ He'd never seen an atomic explosion. They were spoken about like nightmare fuel, always accompanied by descriptions of death and utter destruction. Hyperion may have fired moonshots, but never nuclear warheads. At least, none that he knew of.

His gaze travelled. For the first time, he realized that Nick wasn't the only straggler standing outside. There were several others - some lining the fences and others perched atop lifeless cars. They came from all colors and creeds, but their outfits looked the same: all tattered from years on the road and one hardship after the next. Some stared out wistfully while sipping on a beverage -

It was then that Rhys realized just how parched he was. "There's water inside?"

"Thirsty? Yeah, they have purified water inside. I can show you to the Diner. It'd give you the perfect opportunity to catch up with your friends." Rhys stood a little too quickly. He stumbled, the edges of his vision flashing black for the briefest moment until Nick caught and steadied him. "You're still recovering. Don't go so fast."

"Thanks." He took a moment to collect himself. When he was ready, Nick walked by his side towards the cave. "Everybody keeps saying 'friends'. The only one I remember being with me was Fiona."

"She's here, yes. You really owe it to her and MacCready. They went out into Boston and pushed through the zombies to fetch the implant that saved your life." When Rhys opened his mouth to ask, Nick moved his hand to his own chest and nodded for the Atlas CEO to do the same. He was surprised to feel something rigid underneath his flesh. "It's something that boosts the production of leukocytes. Basically, it sped up your ability to heal."

Rhys marvelled at the thought. Had Fiona really gone through all that trouble just to save his sorry hide? 

"She and Sasha - "

 _Wait, what?_ "Sasha's here?" The words flew out of his mouthas quickly as he thought of them.

"Poor girl got teleported by something called a Siren. She made a crash landing right in the middle of Diamond City and banged up her elbow pretty bad." Amusement outlined Nick's face as he watched Rhys' pace triple. "She was by your side since we got her here. Fiona finally managed to drag her off for food and fresh clothes maybe an hour ago."

He wasn't thinking clearly as he jumped - and instantly regretted jumping - down the first few stairs. Rhys immediately stumbled but caught his footing in time to ascend the second set that lead him to the Vault door. The guards were hitting the control panel and the huge steel gear-shaped door was already sliding out of the way.

The thought crossed his mind that maybe Sasha'd returned to the infirmary, expecting to see him there and getting struck with surprise when the doctor or Desdemona or whoever told her that he was up and about. He imagined she went asking around if anybody saw him. Probably some folk who couldn't forget a man with a metal arm pointed in the general direction of the entrance and she'd gone running to catch up.

Rhys thought all of those things because when the Vault door opened, their eyes met. 

"Rhys!"

And then everything that was firing off in his brain turned to absolute mush and he strode towards her with all the intent to sweep her up with his steel arm in total glee.

He hadn't expected her to throw her arms around his neck and stand on her tiptoes. And he _really_ hadn't expected it when her lips met his own. Rhys' legs wobbled involuntarily an for a split second he thought he was going to melt into a pile of goo. He was grateful for some semblance of stability, though, using his good arm to hold her waist and pull her closer.

Even when Fiona caught up with her sister (announcing, "I'm going to puke in my mouth now!") and their first ever kiss broke, it didn't stop Rhys' heart from hammering in his chest. Sasha leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Don't you _ever_ do that again."

 _But if it means I get more of those, I might have to, part of him wanted to jest._ Any tension contained within his body evaporated like water on a hot day. An inexplicable warmth caressed his chest and Rhys found his chin resting on her shoulder. "No chance," he whispered back.


	6. A Mother's Rage

Their journey took them next to the Sunshine Diner. All the while, Rhys was profusely apologizing to Sasha, holding her uninjured arm (although technically they were both now fine, since her cast was removed earlier that afternoon) and fretting over the small bruises his metallic fingertips had left embedded in her flesh. She waved off his worrying with a light smile, explaining to him that, "You really weren't with it right then, Rhys. I think you were having some kind of nightmare."

"The worst," he confirmed, letting her arm slip away with a look of deep regret.

"I don't think you really knew what was going on. So don't sweat it, okay?" The way she smiled at him must have shaken off the bad feelings, because his troubled frown vanished like melted ice. Then, almost immediately, his ears flushed bright red because Sasha was looking him up and down with a raised brow. "The clothes are ... Well hey, you look like a proper Pandoran now." Her new attire wasn't much different in terms of condition and color, but at least she was used to wearing something more weather-worn and prone to tearing.

Rhys looked defeated. "I feel naked without my suit," he admitted in a whisper.

Hey coy grin absolutely dissolved him. "Well, mostly naked wasn't a bad look either."

 _WHAM_ , that did it. Everything about him morphed carmine. "I - ah - well - er, I'm gonna uh - " He tried to rub his metal hand with his good one - a tick he displayed when extremely nervous - and upon finding the cast had inhibited this ability, Rhys hobbled his way to a table with his head bent. Sasha could see the corner of his mouth as he moved, though, and it was turned upwards into a crooked, bashful smile.

"Your sister," said MacCready from behind her, shaking his head, "is a terrible person."

"I know, right? I'm so proud of her." Fiona clapped Sasha on the shoulder, who looked at her with an expression that said, 'You're surprisingly okay with the flirting. What aren't you telling me?' It was a language spoken between those raised together. Either way, Fiona only responded with a wink which left Sasha wondering what exactly her and Rhys had talked about in Pandora's Vault.

Rhys shucked back one can of purified water after another, not fully realizing how thirsty he actually was until the cool liquid splashed onto his tongue. Food was another story. They thought he'd plow through a couple of plates at the very least and were surprised when he only managed a few bites before folding his arms over his stomach in pain. Nick explained that it was probably from all the meds they pushed into him over the last few days, that his appetite would come back.

MacCready leaned over to whisper in Fiona's ear, "It's probably the Squirrel Bits again ... ," and then hollered over to the woman behind the serving counter with a broad smile and a wave, "Love the food, Mrs. Summerset! You've really outdone yourself!" Fiona buried her face and laughed quietly.

Sasha passed Rhys a bottle of Nuka Cola and dared him to try it. He stared at it quizzically, lifting the bottle up - then immediately setting it back down as he blinked the Synth eye rapidly. "Whoah, what the hell is that?"

"What's what?" asked Sasha.

"I've been seeing the word 'RADS' in the corner of my new eye. It just read +5 as soon as I looked at the bottle."

"Oh, that," laughed Nick. "Our eyes have built-in Geiger counters. RADS is short for 'radiation'."

Rhys' mouth formed an 'o'. "Ooooooooooh, that's so cooool." He pushed the bottle as far away from him as he could. "And there's no way in _heeelll_ I'm drinking that now."

"Radiation poisoning's a lot more common out here than you'd think," announced Piper. She'd joined them at the table not long ago and was quietly chowing down on some Mirelurk Cakes (the crab cakes of the Wasteland!). "Or, you know, maybe you would think it ... But anyway, they've got medicine for that. In surplus, actually. Even folks who don't eat radioactively tainted foods get bit by some RADS every now and then when the storms pass over."

"Storms?" Fiona questioned. "MacCready mentioned it before, but uh ... "

Piper looked to MacCready and gestured for him to take the floor. When he refused with a mouthful of questionable meat, the reporter took his spot. "Okay, so there's a crater some fifteen miles from here where one of the main nuclear warheads hit. We call it the Glowing Sea because, well, it's pretty obvious ain't it? Every now and then the winds and radiation from the Glowing Sea form these electrical storms that pass over the Eastern Commonwealth. It's the lightning you really have to worry about. Radiation spikes every time a bolt strikes somewhere. Sometimes the RadStorms will mix with regular rain clouds too, and then you gotta take shelter because that rain will kill you if you're exposed for too long."

"RadStorms by themselves will last for about an hour before they disperse," Nick continued while Piper sipped her Nuka Quantum (earning several stares from concerned Pandorans). "When they mix with true storms, they can last a whole day - sometimes longer. The only safe bet is to take shelter when the clouds come rolling in. You can usually tell what kind of storm you'll be getting, though. When RadStorms kick up, the clouds have a sickly bright green color. Accompanying rain will glow."

"Super Mutants, Ghouls, and Synths are immune to immune to radiation poisoning." Piper slammed her empty glass down, pocketing the cap she earned from it. "Obviously, so are regular robots. Protectrons, Sentry Bots, Eyebots, Mister Handies ... "

Their conversations continued on like this for a while. They lingered for several hours in the dining area, surviving first off of Nuka Cola and water and then coffee and tea. Several strangers from around the Vault came to sit with them on occasions, including at least two children excited to hear stories from 'the aliens'. They poked Rhys' robot arm several times, jumping back after each daring endeavor up until Rhys made a faux, absolutely fake roar and poked one of them back. They stumbled over each other to get away, screaming and laughing, only to return an hour later to repeat the same scenario.

It was surprising when the Overseer (a woman named Gwen McNamara) and Desdemona took up space at their very same table. They discussed a number of different things with them, namely Pandora and what it was like over there. For people who had no idea what sort of folks they ere dealing with, the leader of the Vault and the leader of the Railroad were fairly friendly when not conducting business.

"It wasn't always like this," said McNamara. "We used to be very closed off to Wastelanders. We'd only allow them passage if they did something for us. An eye for an eye ... But then we let in the Sole Survivor, and in one day she did more than any of us could have expected. It changed the way we viewed things and soon it altered our policies as well. Our citizens became more friendly with strangers. The strangers, in turn, would take root here for a while and offer protection, trade ... It was a very good set up."

"Nora helped to establish the Railroad's presence across the Commonwealth," pitched in Desdemona. "Our goal was to aid Synths escaping the Institute. We would provide them new memories if they wished to forget who they were, helped them adapt to human lives, let them fit in. Of course, they're not completely human. But if they can think and feel like humans, why not treat them as such? They deserve freedom."

"We already know your agenda, Desdemona," stated Nick. He added a smile to soften his words. "And we're grateful for it. Truly."

The Railroad leader beamed back. "Of course there are still people out there who refuse to accept Synths no matter what, but Nora helped prove to the Commonwealth that some - like Nick here - can be a huge link in the chain for everybody. There's not a global acceptance and I don't think there ever will be. But she helped everyday people get a little more comfortable and a lot less fearful being around Synths."

"You all keep name-dropping Nora, but we haven't actually met her." Sasha flicked a coin across the table. She, MacCready, and Rhys were engaged in a game of 'try-to-bean-the-other-guy-in-the-head'. "Did she drop off the planet or ... ?"

"We honestly don't know." It was Piper who spoke and her voice was oddly somber. "She disappeared two years ago and we've been searching for her since. The most direct answer would be that she got taken down by whatever usually takes down people in the Wasteland. Radscorpions, radiation poisoning, the unlucky gunshot ... But Blue took down the Prydwen, faced down Super Mutants and stalked through the Glowing Sea just to find her kid. For her to die like everybody else? No way. She must have been abducted."

"'To find her kid'?" Fiona looked up.

"Yeah, she was, uh ... She had a husband and a son before the bombs dropped. They got ushered into Vault 111 when the nukes started coming down. Turns out the whole place was an experiment meant to keep their inhabitants cryogenically frozen. She was in suspended animation for 200. During that time some assholes from the Institute kidnapped her baby, killed her husband in cold blood ... " While Piper spoke, MacCready flicked the penny with exceptional force. It struck the farthest wall and rebounded. His eyes grew dark. "The place eventually malfunctioned and she thawed out. Talk about culture shock ... "

"There's no worse wrath in the world like a mother who's child was taken from her." Drumming his metal claws on the table, Nick mused quietly that, "I've never seen a hardier person in all my years, and you see a lot in my line of work. Hell, she had a concussion and two broken limbs by the time we found her son's kidnapper, and she still managed to last long enough to stab him in the chest AND make her way back to Diamond City."

"And there was Danse ... "

"Danse was an _asssb_ bsolute jerk," began MacCready, stifling his curse and turning it into something more tame. It was something he was doing frequently. "He didn't know what he had. The guy was a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. They're all about cleansing the Commonwealth and making life better for normal people, but if you're a Synth or a Ghoul, forget about it. You were target practice. Nora had this idea in her head that she could convince them to change their ways, and she did actually get some of them to come to our side. Their leader was pig-headed. He wouldn't be talked down. And Danse ... Well, he was a loyal dog. Rude as hell to all of us, but loyal to Nora because of how much she'd been helping. It was ironically fitting when he found out he was a Synth the whole time - the guy didn't have a clue. Thing is, Maxson found out around the same time. He commanded Nora to kill him for the good of the Brotherhood and she managed to sway his intention and spare Danse. Things were tense with the Brotherhood for a while after that. And then Maxson forced Nora's hand and she brought the Prydwen down ... " His angry orbs focused intensely on the wall opposite of his seat. "Danse didn't say anything when he found out. He just quietly walked out of Sanctuary and never came back."

"He lived his whole life pledging his loyalty to the Brotherhood," said Nick, rubbing his chin. "As much as I hate the BoS, the Prydwen coming down and Maxson dying forced him to re-evaluate his whole existence. To him, it was a lot harder than finding out he was the very thing the Brotherhood despised. He felt he had no reason to be anymore."

"But you don't just _leave_ without getting an explanation." He looked down, angrily kneading his knuckles. "We're a _team_. You don't just bail ... Nora showed us patience and true loyalty. Strong might still flip out for no good reason, but at least he's _there_ for us to call on whenever we need him."

Desdemona and the Overseer bid goodbye and turned in for the night when sleep nagged their aged bones. Another member of Nick's old crew, Deacon, turned up for a while to introduce himself and banter back and forth with Piper, Nick, and MacCready before he was also on his way.

While they did not have their own rooms, there was one bedroom towards the Vault's entrance that had been converted into a common area with spare cots. Piper and MacCready drifted off in very strange spots (with the mercenary snoring on a table and the reporter leaning back in a chair). Nick informed them that he didn't need to eat or sleep, so Rhys helped him tighten a few screws on his robotic hand while the four of them discussed the possibility of getting back to Pandora. Unfortunately, they came to dead ends no matter how hard they looked at it. The only form of teleportation, according to Nick, had been used to get in and out of the Institute which no longer existed and used a Courser Chip that was implanted in Nora's old Pip-Boy, missing along with it's owner. Sasha put their situation in light the best, saying that without knowing where the Siren was, they were stuck waiting on a sign on what to do next. That they were trapped on Earth for the time being and should make the most of it until something came along.

They wondered if Vaughn was looking for them and entertained what sort of possibilities they could be concocting. According to Sasha, they heard the Siren talk about Earth and perhaps that would give them a lead ... but that was a thin strand of hope to hold onto. How many dimensions were there that held still-alive-and-kicking Earths? With Lilith in the mix they might be able to filter through them all until coming to the right plain, but that could take a long time.

Nick finally retreated to the chair opposite of Piper and 'idled' there. Fiona's exhaustion gradually got the better of her and she slipped into one of the three vacant beds.

Rhys flopped onto the sofa, still alert from two days' worth of unconsciousness and three cups of coffee. There was nothing but time to kill, a whole night of nothing ahead of them, and a full microchip of the Wasteland Survival Guide. He held out his robotic arm and started up the audio/video reel. Sasha expressed quick interest, casually climbed onto the sofa with him. She stretched her back against his chest in a position of comfort. Rhys stiffened at first, not expecting her close-quarters. But his tension was short-lived and he relaxed, resting his broken arm across her belly and tentatively kissing the top of her head. His blushing cheekbones remained vigilant throughout the night.

They must have been awake for two more hours before Sasha also caved in to sleep. She rolled sideways, folding her arms and burying her face into Rhys' chest. It was the strong _thump-thump_ of the Atlas CEO's rapid heartbeat that lulled her into a deep slumber. Rhys quietly closed his metallic hand, killing the holographic glow, and wrapped it around her, laying in absolute silence to watch her in the dark. He couldn't see the glow of content etched onto her face, but he felt her rhythmic breathing as his arm rose and fell with her chest.

Gradually, Rhys' head bobbed until his chin faltered on Sasha's head. The encompassing happiness felt throughout his entire being expedited the transition into a (finally) dreamless sleep.

____________________________

 

Their old clothes were cleaned and folded on the table with no trace of who left them there or where they had gone. Rhys dove in first, grabbing his suit and making a mad dash to change. He certainly looked a lot more at home in the black corporate-wear. A long rip extended down most of his left sleeve, but it had been stitched back together in such a way that you wouldn't notice unless you stared.

"Are your buttons ... glowing?" MacCready pointed.

"I know, cool right?"

The day passed by rather uneventfully. MacCready pulled Fiona outside to practice shooting with her, explaining that while her aim wasn't that bad, it could be a lot better. Roshambo wasn't equipped to handle long range shots, so he recommended something with a scope if the need ever arose. It was entertaining to watch her attempt handling a laser rifle and even more enthralling when her accuracy improved with each shot.

Sometime during the afternoon, Doctor Forsythe pulled Rhys (who finally discovered how hungry he was growing) away from the Diner to snip away his cast. He'd stood there for a bit, flexing and moving what had been an injured appendage to get a feel for it again. Later he attempted to sweep Sasha off her feet and kiss her. It was an epic fail. His arm didn't return to its original strength just yet and he ended up almost dropping her. Flustered, he rubbed his hands together, blushed, and walked away muttering to himself.

When Sasha one-upped him and hour later by 'showing him how it's really done', MacCready had leaned over to Fiona, whispering, "So ... which one's the girlfriend again?"

He cracked a smile when she replied with, "You know, I've been wondering that myself."

____________________________

 

It was about two in the morning when MacCready stumbled his way back to Sunshine Diner. He was unable to sleep, strange dreams plaguing his eyes every moment they closed him. It was with some surprise that he found Rhys to also be awake, deep in thought and pacing. With some enthusiasm, they ransacked the Diner together to get the coffee machine working and stood at the counter with nothing but their thoughts, two full mugs, and a lot of time.

"I don't see," MacCready yawned, idly stirring his very black beverage, "what the problem is."

"The problem is I'm totally, absolutely out-of-my-mind head-over-heels for her," Rhys was going on. "I can't stop thinking about her. Hell, I even dream about her."

"So why don't you just, you know, tell her what you're telling me?"

"I've tried, and every time I open my mouth it's just, _'Blugghh'_." He said this while holding his palms open, sticking his tongue out and going cross-eyed to emphasize his point. "Trip over my own tongue and go falling down the stairs."

MacCready snorted. "Man, you got it bad." In a more serious tone, he added with a smile, "I don't know why the hell you're freaking about it. She's obviously crazy about you."

"I just ... " Cupping his metal hand and leaning his head into it, Rhys groaned. "I just wanna express it with more than a stolen kiss. It's on the tip of my tongue every time I see her, so why is it so hard to say it?"

"It's a vulnerability thing. Take it from somebody who's been married - "

"Wait, you've been married?"

"Surprised?"

"Yeah. Completely."

MacCready smirked. "So, take it from me, then. Getting into something serious, something you can see as your future, it takes a lot of guts. You're ripping open your ribs and exposing your raw, beating heart and hoping like hell the other person doesn't stab it while it's exposed." Rhys winced, his implant's incision-site jabbing in sync with the graphic description. "She takes it and returns the sentiment, and bam! There's this great, deeper nirvana and a whole new journey opens up to the both of you." He sipped the coffee casually. "Or she could just squash it and run the other way."

Rhys' face fell. "Ah," he mumbled, looking into his nearly-empty cup.

MacCready topped it off for him. "But _that's_ not going to happen. I'm telling you, dude, the way she acted when you were down and out and the way she looks at you when you don't notice, that's 100% unfiltered love." The mercenary shot him an odd gaze. "How many have you been in?"

The Atlas CEO raised his mug and looked at him across it. "How many what?"

"Relationships. How many?"

"Oh. Crap. Uh ... " Both Synth and human eye looked off into the distance. "Well ... "

"Can you count 'em on one hand?"

"I can count them on one _finger_ ," Rhys laughed. "That was, what, maybe two years ago?"

"That's one hell of a dry spell, buddy," whistled MacCready with a clap of his hands. "So what happened with that? Who broke it off?"

"That would've been me. Fiona ever tell you how much of a shark tank Hyperion was?" When MacCready acknowledged this in the positive, Rhys went on with, "She slept through my contacts until she was a couple rungs above me." He vaguely remembered slamming his fist into a Helios wall like it had been a _good_ idea to do. Steel didn't break as easily as bones did. At least that arm was on its way out anyway.

A pained whistle slipped through the merc's lips. "So I'm guessing it's been a long time since you, you know ... " MacCready flippantly gesticulated, hoping Rhys could catch on. At the utter silence he added, "Hit home base? I swear to god, man, if you need me to explain this one, I'm going to call your manliness into question."

Through raised eyebrows and a sly smile, Rhys certainly played the part of a gender bender for entertainment's sake. "A girl doesn't kiss and tell."

"Thank you for confirming that you are, in fact, a woman. Those shoes were the first sign - "

" _Screw_ you, dude. Those are skag skin shoes. They're high-class stuff on Pandora."

"Well they look like crap."

"Everyone's a critic," sighed the Atlas CEO. He thumbed his mug's handle. "A year and then some."

"For ... what?"

"The answer to your question. It's been a year and ... ten months, maybe? Helios New Year's party and a lot of alcohol." He looked askance to the wall. " _Worst_ mistake I ever made. We were both rebounding pretty hard. There was absolutely no connection between us. We were friends and co-workers and the next couple of months were really, really awkward." MacCready slung back his remaining coffee like a shot and Rhys did the honors of refilling it for him. ("Here, let me help you with your insomnia.")

"You've got some incredible restraint."

He burst into a fit of cackles at the sarcastic glare Rhys threw his way. "Yeah. We'll call it that." _I like to call it bad luck, bad timing, having an AI inhabit your head and a crippling case of wracked nerves._ Being on the caravan with Sasha for their two month-long venture was both a blessing and torture. Handsome Jack was no stranger to what was going on in Rhys' head and used the most inappropriate times to heckle him about it.

"I mean, I'd never be able to last like that. I think the longest I've ever waved the chastity flag was two months ... " He was earning a hardened, investigative gaze from Rhys. "What?"

"What about your wife?" While it was mostly curiosity pushing Rhys to go into detective-mode, he'd be lying if he didn't feel the least bit obligated to do so. It might have just been eagerness to teach somebody new tricks, or it could have his awe at them being from another planet, but Rhys certainly noticed MacCready's excitement around Fiona and made it his civic duty to look out for her in his own way. _It isn't really like Felix is gonna be around with a shotgun on the porch,_ he thought, recalling Fiona's words to him outside the Pandoran Vault ... and her blessing. _Come to think of it, Fiona'd probably beat him into the ground anyway._

MacCready's rigidity was apparent when Rhys' question came flowing out. He looked like he was trying to articulate the words in his head before cutting them loose. "She uh ... she died. About three years ago, actually."

Rhys felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. "Oh ... shit ... I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's ... it's okay," he sighed, rubbing the corner of one eye. "I met Lucy back when I was sixteen. I don't know what it was about her that set me off, but I just knew she had to be mind and we were married a year later. Settled down, had a kid ... Don't look at me like that. The Wasteland is brutal. Remember the Deathclaw that about cleaned your clock? There's hundreds of thousands of things just as bad out there that can strike you down, on top of every other danger you can't see. Life is really short. If you don't seize it, you're prone to never get it again. So we got married, had a son - Duncan. Life was beautiful for a while." His sardonic smile stretched from ear to ear. "She had this crazy ability to just look at me and, _boom_ , hard-on. We were in the kitchen once and she shot me this gorgeous smile ... I just happened to be closing the oven really fast ... Cue fetal position, rolling on the floor, blubbering like a baby." His laugh broke the terse atmosphere, however shortly.

The CEO cringed in sympathy pain. "Ow."

"Yeah ... Two years down the road we found out a pack of feral ghouls had taken up residence at a nearby grocery store. I went in to clear them out but a few got away. Lucy ... Lucy loved playing the radio. Classical music was her favorite. And the ghouls, they honed in on the sound and ... " Unsettled, MacCready closed his eyes. He sipped his java and leaned back. "I took Duncan and found my way to Goodneighbor. Ironic, right? A year later he caught this rare sickness and ... "

Nothing more could be done than pat him solemnly on the back with his human arm. He and Rhys sat there in silence for several minutes before MacCready broke the silence again.

"Nora ... was the closest thing I had to a sister since I was in Little Lamplight, the first person I ever told that story to, the only person to help me let it go. She helped me find a cure for Duncan, but he was so weakened ... his body just couldn't fight it off ... " The merc was on his feet, pushing back his duster as he slunk to the sink to wash his mug. When he returned, he clapped Rhys on the shoulder. "Look, I overheard Desdemona yesterday talking about how they're having problems with a relay tower not far from here. That's a techie job, so she's gonna wind up asking either Nick or you to have a look at it. Honestly, she'll probably go to you first to see if you can prove your worth. You're gonna need somebody with firepower. Fiona said you can't fight worth a damn."

The spark of humor in MacCready's eyes drew a smile from Rhys. "I _can_ fight ... with a stun baton."

"And finger guns, right?" They exchanged a few second's worth of laughter. "Yeah, no. A lot of critters in the Wastes aren't worth getting up close and personal with. You'd sooner dig your own grave. Sasha looks like she handles an SMG well, so you should ask her to tag along. It'd give you guys some time alone, at the very least. Just take my advice, man." He drew in a serious breath, mouth setting into something firm that was neither a smile or a frown. "An open door's an invitation. You gotta jump while the door's open."

Rubbing fatigue from his eyes that hadn't been there before explaining his own story, MacCready worked his way back to the common area. Rhys sat there in silence for a good long time before following his example, washing out his mug and cutting off the coffee maker before whisking down the hall with all the silence of a black-clad ghost.

He imagined MacCready was still awake in his cot, probably staring blankly at the ceiling. Either way, he said nothing when Rhys came through the door. The Atlas CEO felt his way to the sofa through the darkness. Sasha was fast asleep on it, having dozed off again while watching the Wasteland Survival Guide with Rhys (they were up to the episode about the FEV Virus now). Kicking off his shoes, he joined her on the sofa and sidled up until his head rested on her stomach. Sasha's hand fell onto his head, mumbling something in her sleep.

And as she unconsciously brushed back his hair, Rhys closed his eyes.

____________________________

 

It was the thunderous roar that woke them. Even way down in the subterranean Vault, the obnoxious rumbling could be felt within the steel walls and floors. The dwellers stirred with groans.

Filing out of the common area welcomed them to an alarming presence of Vault security guards. Their weapons were drawn and aimed at the cave's mouth well beyond the gear door. Judging from the color-drained expressions on their faces, they knew what the noise belonged to and what exactly it meant.

MacCready scowled derisively. He and Rhys shared exceptionally haggard expressions. Clearly sleep was not on their side. "What, _again_?"

Nick was already up and about. Unlike the guards, his facial features remained stoic and alert as always. "Isn't that ... ?"

"It's Savage." Overseer McNamara stepped out of the elevator with her arms crossed. Desdemona was hot on her trail This made MacCready quirk a brow. Those two were in constant close-proximity and he wondered if the rumors were true ... Giving him no time to dwell on it, McNamara continued to speak. "Has to be ... Those poachers have been after her eggs all month. This is the fourth time in three weeks ... "

"Who the hell would be dumb enough to get that close to her?" Piper quipped, appalled.

Rhys shared her sentiments exactly, but made a face. He and Sasha were taking turns leaning on each other to keep from collapsing into snoring heaps. "Wait, you guys named her Savage?" That was ... fitting.

Both he and Piper were ignored as the Overseer eyed MacCready. Her thin-lipped glower spoke enough for the merc to tip his hat in understanding. "You know what that means ... "

"Of course. Cripes, I don't know how they keep getting past her and the Alpha ... "

A noise caught in Fiona's throat and she drew back with something of harrowing shock. "Don't tell me you're actually going to go and _help_ that thing?"

"It's part of a long-standing agreement," MacCready told her. "That thing I was telling you about earlier? There's more to it. I'll catch you up later." He dared a smirk and eyed her with challenge-laced eyes. "So you wanna come with? I can give you another crash course for surviving the Wasteland. Unless, you know, you're _chicken_."

"You'll eat those words, sniper boy."

"That's what I like to hear."

Desdemona stepped to Rhys. This morning they all shared dark circles under their eyes. "I have a request for you, as well, specifically because you're a hacker. Normally I would give something like this to Nick, but I personally want to see how you handle yourself under the gun - so to speak." MacCready's theory had been dead-on, so Rhys wasn't terribly surprised. He did, however, feel a jolt snap awake some of his tired bones. He blinked away sleep and tried to act at least a little taken aback.

"I, yeah, sure?"

"Vault 81 and the Railroad both use a relay tower northwest of here to communicate with other settlements and the Minutemen. Yesterday we the signal, so there must be a problem with the satellite, the wiring, or there was sabotage involved. I want you to check it out, fix it if you can, and report back to us. There's a radio set up at the tower's base so you can get in touch with us when it's up and running."

Rhys rubbed his eyes first, then rubbed his metallic arm. "Master hacker on the case," he retorted with way too much confidence.

"Don't get cocky, rookie," retorted Nick with a familiar quirk to his lips. Their eyes met and rivalry flared.

"You're just mad 'cause you're sitting this one out," Rhys jeered. "I'll be passing you up in no time, old man."

"I'll keep that in mind when you come crawling back with fried circuits."

Desdemona and Sasha found themselves glancing between them both, sardonically amused and equally cynical. It was the Railroad leader who shrugged her shoulders first. "You'll need somebody with you who can shoot - "

Sasha didn't allow her continue as she butted in with an all-too-eager, "I'll go."

Despite planning to ask her anyway, Rhys was ever the victim to his own awkwardness and flushed. "Aww, you wanna bodyguard little old me?" In the background, MacCready made a strangled noise similar to snuffed giggles.

"It's settled then," said Overseer McNamara. "Take yourselves some time to gather your supplies and wake up. You'll need stimpacks, Rad-X, and probably a few provisions just in case. That will give some time for Savage to pursue the poachers and get far enough away so that she's not a danger to any of you. You don't need to be getting mauled."

Rhys recalled the powerful sweep of the Matriarch's claws and felt his color drain with the presence of phantom pains. "Right. Deathclaws." He was totally unaware that his human arm was shaking.

MacCready steered him to the elevator. Sasha and Fiona followed. "C'mon, let's gear up."

____________________________

 

" _Why_ are we helping the walking _tank_?" Fiona questioned again. Two hours later, the four of them emerged from Vault 81 together, deciding to travel together until diverging paths forced them to break ranks. They were approaching Chestnut Hillock Reservoir at a slanted angle so that their trajectory was bringing them straight towards a familiarly ominous landmark. "The thing damn near killed Rhys and almost nailed my ass, too. And _why the hell_ are we going to the **cave**?!"

Sasha and MacCready were clearly the braver ones in this scenario. Rhys and Fiona hung back several feet, each step they took laced with intense trepidation. The Vault Hunter's fingers gripped her laser rifle. Rhys rubbed his fleshy arm, eager to reach for the shock baton clipped to his belt at a moment's notice - not like it would do much.

Despite MacCready's eerily calm disposition, Sasha's SMG was out, loaded, and ready to fire. She threw the mercenary some serious concern when he failed to draw his own weapon.

"Have a little faith, will you?" spoke the man with the duster jacket. "We need to case the nest. Maybe the poachers left something behind - something we can use to track or understand them better."

"That didn't answer my other question," snapped Fiona.

"You'll get _that_ in a minute." MacCready halted a foot away from the cavernous entrance. He looked left, then right, then up ... and slipped his fingers into his mouth and whistled sharply.

The resulting rumble made even Sasha step back.

It came from above the cave, stalking about out of sight. The first thing they saw were the horns, then the pearly-white eyes and the sharp, piranha-esque teeth. Great large nostrils huffed the air momentarily. The Deathclaw dipped over the rock face's steep drop and slapped it's claws into the stone so it's heavy body slid down to the hard earth below, whereupon it stretched its massive fingers and cut loose a horrid, terrifying roar that sent a shrieking Rhys backpedaling with wide eyes and Fiona ducking in hopes of avoiding detection.

And then ... it approached. Lumbering footsteps came at a lax pace but with enough force to jar everybody's footing. "Watch out!" hollered Sasha as she raised the SMG, only for MacCready to grab the gun's muzzle and lower it by force.

"Relax," the merc told her with a wink. "Unlike Savage, _he_ won't hurt us."

" _He_?"

MacCready continued to hold the gun downwards and Sasha fought the urge to join Rhys in noping the fuck out of there when the Deathclaw came to a halt a foot away from them. It lowered it's snout, sniffing the merc's dirt-smeared jacket. MacCready's arms reached out, hands clasping either side of the Alpha Male Deathclaw's head and bringing it close enough so that their foreheads touched.

"Hello, Fluffy," he crooned.

"I think I've seen it all now ... " Sasha almost dropped her weapon in shock, mouth unhinged in a gaping stare.

Fiona joined in the ogling. Rhys managed to look behind him long enough to see the exchange and skid to a halt, bleating a, " _How the hell are you even doing that?!_ "

"It's another Nora story," MacCready answered, rubbing Fluffy's snout lovingly. A soft din of grumbles vibrated at the beast's throat. Was it _purring_? "You can come on back, Rhys. He knows you're with me. You too, Fiona. Let him get a whiff of your hand though so he can recognize your scent later. Deathclaw's have notoriously horrible sight."

Rhys was hesitant, but seeing Fiona shakily get to her feet and approach gave him enough confidence to start his trek back. "I'm sold," Fiona uttered with an obvious tremor in her vocal cords. "MacCready the Deathclaw tamer. That's ... that's _hot_." Sasha shot her a firm scowl, but Fiona ignored it.

Fiona was the first to outstretch her palm for the mutated chameleon the sniff, followed by Sasha. Rhys was last, his hand trembling erratically. "G-Good Deathclaw," he stammered, absolute fear running thick. "Noooobody has to be anyone's lunch today ... "

MacCready gave a heartfelt laugh. "I'd be lying if I told you Nora and I didn't say the exact same thing." He began to 'spin his yawn' while scratching Fluffy's chin. The massive beast, shaded a dark tan that faded to pale gray at his extremities - snout included -, appeared to enjoy this thoroughly. "Back before we broke into the Institute, Nick, Nora, and myself heard some folks talking in Diamond City about a Museum of Witchcraft. On a bored whim one day, we went to check it out.

"We got there to find something big and nasty dropping body parts through cracks in the floor while it noshed away on 'em. Against all better judgment and common sense, we pushed on - we were a stubborn lot. Still are. We found Savage upstairs and all of us about crapped ourselves. Never to this day have I seen another time where Nick got absolutely terrified. Savage ... well, we called her that because she was one _meeeaaan_ machine. One of her horns was busted off: probably from a fight with another Deathclaw. Females are crazy territorial.

"Turned out the place was ransacked. Some mercenaries were hired to retrieve Deathclaw eggs. They sell _really_ well on the market because they're so hard to get while, you know, _staying alive_. Savage went into pursuit mode to find them, broke into the museum, and slaughtered the hell out of them. We managed to find the eggs while ducking between rooms to keep from getting murdered to pieces. All of them were shattered except one. So we grabbed it, snuck our way out, and ran like bats out of hell. We had two choices at that point. A: locate the buyer and sell them for enough caps to set us straight for a while, or B: we could try to find the nest and bring the egg back. Guess what Nora's decision was?

"It took a bit of tracking but we found the empty nest. And we also found _this guy_ waiting there. It was a huge surprise when he didn't assault us right then and there, but we thought he smelled the egg and that kept him restrained. Deathclaws are ... well, they're hyper-intelligent. They can recognize faces, understand human language, and even try to mimic human speech even though they don't have vocal chords. They have this hierarchy system where they can either form packs or go it alone depending on how war-torn and dangerous the land is. The Matriarch is the breeder and only the Alpha Male is allowed to have her. And they mate for life. When one of the pair dies, another member assumes the role of whichever one died and the partner steps down so another can take his or her place.

"Nora had this theory that, if they truly were hyper-intelligent, maybe the only reason they attacked humans was because they saw humans as the aggressors. That if we tried to show benevolence to one, it would remember it and there could be a truce. I thought she was out of her mind but Nick gave her the benefit of the doubt. And ... it paid off."

Fluffy grunted. Like a dog wanting attention, it bumped Sasha's back until she took over for MacCready in rubbing it's chin. "It's kind of cute, in a homicidal maniac kind of way ... ," she admitted.

"How'd it wind up at the Vault?" Rhys asked, watching Sasha and the Deathclaw with an expression that emanated his worry of Fluffy attempting to rip her arm off. "What did it do, follow you?"

"Yeah, actually." MacCready stepped back and admired the sight. He never would have thought he could appreciate a Deathclaw's company. "Eventually Savage broke out of the museum - thankfully long after we left - and got back to the nest. Maybe they talked about it or something or ... I dunno, maybe they were getting disturbed too much by other hired hands. But sometime after Nora vanished, they appeared outside Vault 81 with a bunch of hatched babies. We were about to kill them until Nick and I recognized them. I think they followed our scent ... Then Fluffy came up to me without any hint of aggression and it just kinda became a thing. They would keep our roads safe from raiders, and in turn we would protect their nest and find their eggs if they ever turned up missing."

He looked at Rhys with a cock-eyed, somewhat remorseful smile. "I'm real sorry about what Savage did to you, man. You guys literally landed like five feet from the nest and she just lost her mind. In her mind, she probably thought you were bandits coming for her babies. I really regretted her getting shot at like that, but it was the only way to shake her off - otherwise Fiona would've been next and neither of you woulda seen the light of day."

Grim thoughts cascaded Rhys mind and he shuddered. "I didn't need to think about that ... " In careful afterthought, he added, "He wasn't ... upset? After blasting the Matriarch and all?"

"I may have come out here after we brought back the implant to 'converse' with him, and I'm pretty sure he understands. Males are calmer in nature than their female counterparts. It's like Nick said, there's no worse temper in the world than a mother who feels her children are endangered. The only time Savage actually becomes approachable is that six month period between her hatchlings leaving the nest and another clutch being laid."

Fiona laughed. "Hey Rhys," she called.

The Atlas CEO looked up to see Fluffy staring down at him with his massive cranium cocked to the side. Rhys stepped back uneasily and the Deathclaw stepped forward. "I think he recognizes you," said MacCready. The metal-armed man about keeled over in total fear when the death machine bumped his forehead. He let out a terrified squeak. "And I think he's apologizing."

Rhys was frozen stiff until Fiona grabbed his silver hand and held it out, encouraging him with a, "C'mon, you big baby." Fluffy bumped his tense, solid steel palm and Rhys, coaxed into doing something other than just stand there, shakily obliged with a caress. Sasha giggled and he temporarily locked eyes with her. Seeing the enthusiasm in her fiery gaze made a flood of confidence spur from the darkest corners of his insides. His stroking of the Deathclaw's rough scales became more soft and relaxed.

"It's, uh, it's okay. I forgive you for having a crazy wife." Lowering his voice to a whisper as if sounding more compassionate would make him look any less manly, he added, "Sorry about your kids ... "

There might have been something to say about that whole scene - running parallels with Rhys gently petting a Deathclaw's dangerous face to Handsome Jack gouging out the Destroyer's eye on Pandora - but the respective parties who would have truly appreciated that were not present. Athena or Lilith certainly would have had something to say, comparing Hyperion's deformed 'generosity' to what might become Atlas' blossoming one.

"I have to ask," Fiona began, "why 'Fluffy'?"

MacCready thrummed with good spirits. "Oh, _that_ was kind of a tongue-in-cheek thing. I suggested it and Nora ran with it. Neither of us thought it'd actually stick but he definitely seems okay with that." He stroked his goatee in thought. "Or maybe he gets the joke. I dunno. Anyway, we're here for a reason and the longer we delay ... Fluffy, I'm going to check by the nest, okay?"

The Deathclaw moved away from Rhys after accepting several more brushes of his head, following MacCready to said location.

It didn't take long to find what they were looking for. The body of a human male was laying prone in the dirt, several gouge marks extracting meat from the area around his spine (to which Rhys promptly spun around, said, "Nope," and went off to gag somewhere). MacCready didn't kick the body over - it was clear from the blood puddle underneath the victim's face that Savage had done more to him than was readily visible. The merc did, however, frown at the man's outfit. His black vest was ripped in several spots, marring the image, but it was definitely present: the grayish skull with an 'x' marked in the forehead, an insignia belonging to one of the Commonwealth's more nefarious groups.

"Gunners," MacCready spat, kicking the body in agitation. The lot of them had spoken enough over the past few days to get an idea of who were the bad guys and who were the good guys. Gunners ranked in at #2 on the villain list, surpassed only by the Super Mutant hostiles. Enemies and friends were not the only conversational piece, because whenever MacCready announced the presence of a drained Stealth Boy, everybody knew what it was. "Sneaky bastards," the cuss slipped unconsciously from his maw. He didn't appear to notice it. "So one guy comes in with a Stealth Boy, grabs an egg and runs before the Matriarch knows what's happening. A second gets cocky and tries for another egg, but something goes wrong and he slips up and mama finds him ... At least we've only got one egg to worry about. I'm not gonna lie, Fiona. If Savage didn't bump 'em all off, we might be in for a firefight."

Fiona's cockyness showed as she winked at him. "Been itching for a fight _all_ day."

"Mirror mirror on the wall," chimed Rhys, returning with a little less green to him, "you've become Athena after all." The Vault Hunter shot him a look, but really she couldn't argue. He was kind of right.

"I guess we just follow the trail of ... " Sasha leered off into the distance. " ... Really big Deathclaw footprints?"

"Pretty much. Let's go." Fluffy grunted and MacCready pressed his hand against the beast's eyeridge. "Don't worry, bud, we'll be back with your egg in no time. Maybe I'll even bring you a treat! A fresh Gunner carcass."

As they walked off, Fiona asked, "We're not actually bringing a body back, are we?"

"That wasn't the original intention, no, but as much as I hate the Gunners, I'm actually considering it."

____________________________

 

"HALT! Civilian, a mandatory curfew is in effect. Return to your home immediately!"

It was the first time Fiona, Sasha, and Rhys ever saw a Mister Gutsy. MacCready assured them it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Uhm ... ," Fiona looked upwards. The sky was still bright because night was such a long, long time away. "Curfew ... ?"

"By order of Provisional Governor Graham," squawked the floating robot, his drill sergeant voice commanding despite his lack of a mouth, "a state of marshal law has been declared! Under the terms of the Marshal Law Act section 12-dot-J, those refusing to comply with a curfew order are to be **pacified**!"

"Who's Graham?" whispered Sasha.

"It's from before the bombs dropped. A lot of these robots still think the Great War is going on," MacCready whispered back. He straightened his back and spoke firmly. "Let us through. We're on _important_ military business."

A series of whirs and clicks sounded from inside the military-grade robot's body. "Analyzing vocal patterns." _Click, bzzt, zot!_ "Confidence interval: 2.74%. **Negative**. Return to your home immediately! Repeat, will you comply?"

MacCready cut loose a frustrated sigh. "Crap, I've always been bad at persuasion." He felt for his sniper rifle. Fiona and Sasha reached for their guns while Rhys unclipped the stun baton. To the robot, he said, "Will you comply?"

"Repeat, will you comply?"

"Will you comply?"

"Repeat, will you comply?"

Fiona had a theory. She tested it. "Will you comply?"

"Repeat, will you comply?"

The two boys chortled. Sasha pitched in. "Will you comply?"

"Repeat, will you comply?"

"Will you comply?" Rhys joined them..

His face plummeted when the Mister Gutsy raised an arm to his face and declared, "Civic maleficence detected!"

"Oh _come **on**_!"

"That's it, Rhys! I figured out a nickname for you!" howled MacCready as they ducked for cover behind trees under the barrage of plasma bullets.

"What!?" The CEO was unamused.

"Black cat!"

Rhys took several seconds before shouting back. "Yeah, I can actually see that!"

"What the actual hell?! Doesn't it see that were civilians or something?!" Sasha screamed, peeking around her tree to open fire.

" **DIE YOU CHINESE COMMIE BASTARDS**!"

"I think that means NO, Sash!"

"Does it EVER run out of amm - oh shit oh shit flamethrower!" Fiona zipped between trees, the Mister Gutsy blazing after her with a torrent of heat. MacCready pinged it with a shot to the back, distracting it long enough for Fiona to weasel one of her own bullets in. The corrosive blast ate away its arms and Sasha finished it off with several rounds of her own. "Good to see you jump in there, Rhys!" yelled the Vault Hunter, dripping sarcasm in every word.

"I am **not** running through bullets!"

MacCready went picking through the metal husk that remained, carefully avoiding all of the acid. At the others' cynical glares, he told them, "Don't judge me! Some of this stuff comes in handy!" He procured a circuit board and some plasma cells and stashed them in his rucksack. Brushing soot from his coat and glancing about the (thankfully not burning) trees, he continued with, "Anyhoo, we're at that point. Savage's trail goes south from here, so this is where we split up." He pointed northwest. The top of a radio tower could be seen poking out amongst the sprawling dead tree branches. "That's the relay tower over there."

"How exactly will we meet up before heading back to the Vault?" Sasha was counting her ammunition magazines and reloading. "It's not like we've got portable radios."

"We won't."

"Let's do this," Fiona propositioned. She walked to a tree that stood solitary from all of the other ones at the edge of the wood. "Whoever gets done first comes back to this tree and carves something in it. This way we'll know you're safe and head back. But if we don't see anything on the tree, we'll head your way and see what's what."

"If a RadStorm rolls through, shelter in place and take some Rad-X," advised MacCready. "We've been due one for a while. Keep your eyes to the sky."

"You better keep Fiona safe or I'll hunt you down," warned Sasha, recalling his earlier words about the Gunners. Fiona rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, I'll be the one making sure _he_ doesn't get hurt."

MacCready looked about to say something, but looked from her to Sasha to Rhys (who had actually jumped on the 'watch-her-back-or-lose-your-ass' bandwagon, considering the stare he was on the receiving end of) and thought better of it. "I will lay down my life to keep the fair lady safe," he groaned acerbically. "Let's roll - have _fun_ kiddies!"

Rhys was glad Sasha and Fiona weren't looking at him because he turned red. Fiona looked in tie to catch the tail end of it, but didn't see enough to raise a question about the fading shade. "And you, Black Cat - holy shit that fits, I'm totally using that from now on - keep an eye on her!"

"I'll keep both on her."

MacCready barked a sharp laugh and Sasha's cheeks actually lit up. Upon realizing what he said, so did Rhys'.

"I retract that! Sasha, you watch _him_!"

"I plan to," winked her sister, finding it too hard to resist keeping the gag up. Rhys thought that if his face hadn't burned off from the heat before, it surely should now.

Walking away, MacCready was virtually in tears. "Oh-ho, this is **golden**!"

Fiona was walking backwards, not sure who to yell at while her jaw opened and closed in silence. Twisting her face in agitation, she gestured first to her eyes with two fingers and then pointed at the Atlas hacker. "I swear to _god_ , Rhys - !"

She allowed the warning to linger before hiking to catch up to MacCready. Sasha joined Rhys' side with her sides busting in laughter, surprising the latter with a peck on the lips and then sprinting up the hill through the trees while Rhys was too wobbly-kneed to react. "Race you!"

He wheeled around and moved as fast as his long legs would carry him, renewed in spirit. "Oh hey, you cheater!"


	7. Pip-Boys and Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the confusing chapter layout, folks. I didn't realize trying to set the Prologue as, well, a PROLOGUE was going to move things around the way it did ... We're back in order now.

MacCready's disconcertion was first palpable when their trajectory veered due-east. Fiona didn't understand why he appeared so troubled - and somewhat vexed - until they found themselves passing by Fluffy's cave with Vault 81 leering at them through the glare of a setting sun.

"Are we backtracking?" she asked aloud, concern mingling with mild aggravation. Savage's massive footprints didn't lead them into her nesting cave but past it. Fluffy was at the mouth of it. He looked their way, then directed his muzzle to point at the demolished city looming on the horizon.

"It looks like the Gunners gave her the run-around," said MacCready. He was frowning as he nodded to Fluffy. The Alpha Male Deathclaw vanished into the confines of his home. "Maybe they were trying to throw her off the trail. I guess they forgot how Deathclaw noses act."

Fiona didn't like that this was bringing them farther and farther away from the relay tower. For each step they took, the possibility of a rendezvous with Sasha and Rhys was becoming more and more distant. Her mind dug for solutions to that problem, found none, and forced open her mouth to express such irritations with varying expletives, some so bad they made MacCready blush.

Their journey was pocket-marked with random encounters with the Commonwealth's festering wildlife - from wild mongrels to massive black winged insects MacCready called Bloatflies ... and a bear. Rather, a Yao Guai. The merc with a mouth pulled Fiona behind some boulders and they both watched the massive four-legged carnivore sniff the air vigorously before moving on. Fiona was about to ask why they bothered to duck and cover for one of them when several more followed their leader.

"Yao Guai typically travel together," he explained to her. "One's a powerful nuisance. Multiple is like standing in front of a firing squad of fangs and claws."

Fiona and MacCready traced Savage's footsteps to train tracks. They followed until their path intersected with a roadway, which dipped into a ramp with large concrete walls on either side. The railroad passed over these walls like a bridge. Only when the familiar huffing and grumbling of a Deathclaw became apparent did they stop to look down.

Once upon a time, the ramp below them ran through a tunnel. 200 years later, the pavement was cracked with dying grass and shrubs poking through the exposures and rubble. Several cars - some of them not in terrible shape but obviously not in working order - and the husk of an old commercial bus dotted what had once been a highway. Further down, the pavement almost completely vanished beneath dunes of broken cement and lakes of stagnant water. Three wire-mesh barrels were alight with fire, casting a haunting orange glow. On the far end of the ramp was a wall with two entrances - one for incoming traffic and the other for outgoing. It was adorned with a large, silvery-steel face sculpture marred with rusted grooves and bullet holes. Above it, in equally-large metal letters, were the words 'MASSACHUSETTS TURNPIKE'.

No cars would be getting in and out of those tunnels any time soon - or ever, really. Both opening were cordoned off by the tunnel's collapsed ceiling. The only way in or out looked like it was through a door just inside the outgoing traffic tunnel's opening.

And there was one other big obstacle ...

"Well, we found her," MacCready announced in a whisper. He'd ducked below the train tracks' railing to avoid being seen by the very large, very _angry_ mother Deathclaw below them.

Her jagged teeth were stained with fresh, bright red blood stains and hanging strips of flesh. Those flexing razors they called her claws were similarly decorated, and Fiona watched with horrified amazement as the Matriarch sharpened one long talon against the other in violent anticipation. Alabaster oculars were focused with searing intent on the door just beyond her. Savage bleated an infuriated roar, then stomped to and fro in irritated perplexion.

"At least we know where the Gunners are at ... "

"I can see at least two problems with this," Fiona muttered sarcastically.

"Three," MacCready corrected. He was greeted with a sneer and scoffed in return. "Let's see ... This whole spot is pretty open. We can't exactly take cover behind the cars. Not for long at least. She'd flip them over. There's the stairs," he pointed to two sets of them leading down to a door by the road on either side of the turnpike. "We could take those down and book it when the time's right. But we won't be able to leave the same way we get in ... "

Fiona understood that much. Savage would be waiting expectantly for them to leave. She doubted having the egg would quell the Deathclaw. Recalling how much damage the Matriarch had done to Rhys by just flicking her arm, Fiona mused over what the result would be when she actually employed the natural weapons she was born with. She thought of the Gunner's corpse back at the cave and made a gargled at the disturbing mental image.

"Lucky us, the tunnel follows through to Boston. But that means we wouldn't be able to meet up with your sis and her boy toy." Frowning, MacCready stroked his beard. "And it looks like there's a _fourth_ problem."

"I'm all ears," Fiona told him. She watched as he raised a finger to the sky with a grim outlook stretched across his prematurely-aged face.

Something distant gave a hollow rumble. It raced across the sky, cracking all the way.

"RadStorm." That's right. Fiona had noticed the sickly green hue starting to take form farther away not long ago. She didn't think it would have traveled to them that quickly ... "Most likely, we're gonna have to make a mad dash to that door when Savage has her back turned, clear out the tunnel, find the egg, and ride the storm out."

"What about Sasha and Rhys?" Her concern was not lost on him.

"There might be a radio inside ... " Offering her a way-too-confident smirk, he added, "But we won't know until we go and find out. So how about it, _pardner_?"

"Yyeaaah, I've heard worse plans." _Like throwing a grenade down at my feet?_ "Split up, or go in from the same side?"

"Same side. We can distract her."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Heh, so do I."

Fiona and MacCready tip-toed their way across the railway tracks, desperately trying to keep their shoes from clicking loudly against the steel beams beneath them. Once back on concrete, they made their way down the set of stairs to the left until they were positioned at the door. MacCready slipped out first. He ducked behind a car, peeked through it's window to see where Savage was located, then waved Fiona over. For all the hype over a Deathclaw's heightened sense of smell, Savage was oblivious to their presence. Was she so engrossed in her current pursuit that she didn't care to notice?

"So what do you have in mind for a dis - " She stopped in mid-sentence when he pulled the pin on a fragmentation grenade in his hand. "Oh. Crap."

He winked. "Cover your ears."

It took him half a second to stand up and another half to lob the explosive over the turnpike's wall. It shattered in a blossoming fireball of smoke and heat and sound. Savage tore her one-track mind away from the door and snarled, launching on all-fours and bounding up the ramp like some rabid hound. Fiona didn't know they could run like that.

MacCready pushed on her back firmly. "Run, now!"

Savage was rounding the corner at the ramp's ascending end. The rapid footsteps of MacCready and Fiona racing their way to the turnpike's entrance was enough to pull her back. She howled in outrage, spinning on the tips of her talons and leaving deep grooves where they seared through pavement. Savage knew she'd been had. And she was not at all pleased with that. Incensed teeth gnashed together hard. She threw herself at them with all the speed her hardened muscles could offer.

MacCready was at the door first. He flung it open, leaping inside. Fiona pounced for the opening when something thin and slippery grabbed her ankle and jerked her back. From the corner of her eye she could see the tattered face of a ghoul submerged in the water, its lower half disconnected from some previous perilous encounter, decaying teeth crashing together and drawing nearer and nearer to her skin.

"Fiona!" MacCready was starting out of the door. Savage was getting closer. There was no _time_ for this.

Decay was on Fiona's side. The ghoul was so rotted that, with a sharp yank of her leg, the wrist split away from the rest of its arm. Adrenaline surged her forth. Fiona practically fell through the doorway as Savage's taloned foot came crashing down to snuff whatever was left of the ghoul's life. Her milky white orb appeared before the door, drawing her arm back to thrust it inside and claim one of them with a fell swoop. But MacCready slammed the door quicker and mechanical locks fastened into place. Savage pounded, screamed, slashed - but the steel door did little more than give in to a slight dent.

Fiona groaned at the frail, leathery extremity still wrapped tightly about her ankle. She pried the fingers off one by one. "Fucking wretched," she hissed, kicking it off once it had been loosened enough. Coagulated blood spread across the opposing wall as the hand splattered against it. MacCready helped her to her feet, spinning her around in his hands and looking over every inch of her.

"Are you hurt?" His concern was quite a contrast to his normally gruff, snarky demeanor. Fiona wasn't sure if she should feel uncomfortable or flattered.

She pushed him away with a raised brow, smirking curiously. "All in a day's scavving, am I right?"

MacCready huffed but said no more. She was appreciative of that. It gave them both the chance to focus on their new surroundings. Fiona wrinkled her nose at the smell - a musky, mildewy aura that permeated the very depths of the buildings. The ground ahead of them was completely sopped up with water until the road ascend out of the murky pools. Still, she eyed the waters with unease. Fiona didn't notice the ghoul while running to the door. Were there more like that one, sunken beneath the muck, waiting for prey to come along for the grabbing?

MacCready appeared to read her mind. He produced a flashlight and shone it onto the ground. The only body lurking in the waters had a fist-sized head in its skull. Switching the light off to keep watchful eyes from looking their way, the mercenary scouted ahead. Fiona followed dutifully, the laser rifle at the ready. (Roshambo, she thought, would be a bad idea unless she was up close and personal.)

There were many more wrecked cars inside, claimed by age and disuse rather than nuclear bombs. A great, bright light shone in the distance. To their right was a series of doors leading to what Fiona assumed might be some maintenance rooms. She poked her head in one of them. Tiny lightbulbs descending from the ceiling illuminated the metallic halls. There had to be at least one generator floating around. A running one. Meaning they were not alone.

Then again, that part was obvious.

Something of a darker metallic make glinted at her from one of the back rooms. Squinting, Fiona realized it was a soddered iron safe. A _very large_ safe. An old, familiar tingle of money hunger quaked in her belly. The Vault Hunter spared a glimpse at MacCready and then back down the hallway. He was stalking further into the tunnels, clueless of Fiona's stalling. He probably assumed she was behind him. _So he won't notice if I just take a quick peek ..._

Fiona crouched low to the ground and slunk forward the way a well-trained thief would, shooting looks this way and that to confirm she was indeed alone. Old habits really did die hard. Only when she could place her dainty hand atop the safe did she stop. Armed with a bobby pin and a screwdriver, she went quickly to work.

But when an explosion in the distance and the rat-tat-tat of rapid gunfire engulfed the turnpike in a din of battle, Fiona jumped hard enough to snap the bobby pin off. She whirled, leaping to her feet in a blind rush of _oh shit, oh shit, MacCready!_

She didn't notice the tall figure in front of her until she lifted her head, and by that time she was too late to do anything about the solid metal object smashing her skull. Fiona heard the crack, saw the burst of light and felt the incredible pain.

And then nothing.

_______________

 

Garbled words and underwater noises filled her head. Fiona could make out some strings of sentences but they were lost to the mix of white noise and the ringing in her ears. Searing pain throbbed inside her skull.

" - you **see** who the fuck that wa - "

" - the **fuck** did he come fro - "

Fiona was aware of movement - the sensation of being dragged from her feet while her head straggled listlessly behind. Every time they came across a bump, her brain would scream in agony. "Son of a ... ," she grumbled. Or she thought she did. Her mouth moved but Fiona wasn't sure if the words actually came out.

"Fuckin' Robert Joseph MacCready," snapped the closest man to her. The words were coming in clear now. She attempted to open an eye and was greeted with stars. "First he and that bitch kill Winlock and Barnes and now this ... I thought he wanted to keep his distance from us."

"In fairness, Vic, we haven't bumped into him for several years now," came another man's voice. This one was deeper and penetrated the tunnel behind her. "It probably has to do with the Deathclaw. Sir, we could always leave the egg and take off - "

The man grabbing Fiona's feet dropped them suddenly to reel back and slug the other man in the face, dropping him like a sack of rocks. Vic returned to his position, spitting venom as he did so. Fiona dared to try looking again and this time saw the darkened figure of a man in his mid-thirties. He was definitely rough around the edges. His black vest was torn and muddy, exhibiting the same insignia that had marred the corpse back at Fluffy's cave. Rugged, dirty blue jeans were ripped in some very unusual places. She could only see the back of his head - a mass of greasy, unruly black hair and a thick beard that flayed out at the hinge of his jaw.

"Don't fucking _talk_ like that. Would you rather face _him_ instead?" Vic was rewarded with silence. Fiona heard the other man rise to his feet, coughing but speaking no more. The lead Gunner smirked. "That's what I thought. MacCready is a mean asshole, but he's just a man. Besides, we got us a bargaining chip." Vic stopped again, but this time in front of a locked door. A humming computer monitor stood alongside it. "Goddamnit - forgot the fuckin' password. Pryce!"

Pryce, as his name was designated, stepped around Fiona's half-conscious body. He was covering his nose, blood dripping out from under his massive palm. A man of darker complexion, Pryce wielded uncharacteristically light hair - blonde. He stood a good foot shorter than Vic and bore several scars on his arms and legs. Fiona had to wonder if he received those from a monster or from the treatment of his 'partner-in-crime'. A sawed-off shotgun was slung across his shoulder.

Pryce was typing away at the computer. _Christ, is everybody here a techie?_ Several beeps later, the locked door swung open of its own accord. Pryce walked back to his post silently and Fiona noticed something very bulky and out-of-place on his left wrist. She couldn't tell if it was a piece of armor or not, but it looked like it had a screen -

"Well, lookit who's awake."

"Fuck," she growled. She must have been moving a lot and didn't notice. Fiona glared at Vic, then made a face of disgust as he slowly licked his lips in hungry anticipation.

"We'll be doin' that plenty later, kitten." His lips spread wide and Fiona was able to get a good, hard look at several rotten teeth.

Lingering on the precipice between fear and outrage, Fiona ripped one of her legs away and went to kick for his neck. Vic's thick arm blocked it. He grabbed her foot and twisted hard until Fiona felt a bone in her ankle pop and she screamed at the excruciating pain. A haze of red agony slipped over her eyes as she struggled to grab at the laser rifle or reveal Roshambo or _something_ , which would have been fantastic if her hands hadn't been tied behind her back.

Fiona knew she was in no position to make threats, but she couldn't help herself. "Can't wait to see you get a bullet in your head, scumbag!"

"That so?" Vic's laugh was chilling. He grabbed the front of her shirt and lifted Fiona off of the ground effortlessly, drawing her so close to his face that Fiona could smell stale cigarettes and whisky. "RJ ain't gonna last long out there, and you ain't gonna get away. What say you rephrase your statement?"

She spat in his face.

 _"Man, have you got anger issues,"_ she remembered Rhys saying to her when they were still in the Vault. Fiona had to admit he was goddamned right. She also had to admit that she wasn't sure if it was worth it or not, because Vic tossed her roughly into the newly-unlocked room and kicked her hard in the ribs. A holler wanted desperately to breach her mouth but she clamped down on it hard, gritting her teeth and glowering instead.

Vic waggled his finger, tsk-ing. "Man, you're gonna be fun. But you better wise up. Ya don't wanna end up like poochie, do ya?"

Poochie? Fiona looked confused until she followed Vic's outstretched finger to a chain pinned into the wall. And on the other end of that chain was a dog. According to its fur - or what was left of its fur - it was a German Shepherd. It lay almost lifelessly, weak and wheezing and grossly emaciated. Sad brown eyes roved the room. Multiple slashes were embedded in its haggard flesh, all in different stages of healing.

Fiona felt her heart break. "What the fuck is **_wrong_** with you?"

Pryce stepped around Vic, sighing, and slipped further back into the area. They were in some kind of generator room. A large machine was whirring gently on the wall beyond them. That was where Pryce went to sit, nursing his broken nose. Vic, on the other hand ... he stepped closer to Fiona's face. His foot came to a rest on her neck.

"You're gonna _stop_ spittin' shit, oka - "

The red, spurting hole opening in his forehead halted all words and Vic fell over with wide, surprised eyes. Standing at the doorway was MacCready, his sniper rifle held firm against his shoulder.

"You left the door open, dumbass."

Fiona wished she could wipe Vic's blood off of her face. Again, tied hands. "You're late."

"Oh I'm _sorry_ ," countered MacCready, dipping to the side and piercing a fleeing Pryce's leg with a .50 caliber bullet. The Gunner collapsed, screaming. "But the turret and Gunner chick wanted to keep me for tea and crumpets and I just _couldn't_ refuse."

Despite the crippling pain in her side and the deeper throbbing in her broken ankle, Fiona couldn't help but grin at his acrid sarcasm. "Hurry up and undo this rope, I wanna help this dog."

"Dog?" MacCready looked up, his eyes setting on the mutt in question. His face fell and the German Shepherd lifted his (or her?) head up as much as it could manage, letting out a pained whimper and wagging its tail. "Dogmeat ... ?"

"Please tell me you don't plan on eating him." Fiona pulled her hands free as soon as MacCready slipped through them with a knife. She rolled to her knees, instantly regretting the action and groaning. "Damn ankle ... "

"It's his name. And you're hurt." It was a statement, not a question. MacCready's sniper rifle hung limply in his hands. He looked torn about who to care for first, looking to her, then to Dogmeat. Fiona waved him off, unable to bear the very sad look in his blue orbs and definitely unable to bear the cries of a horribly mistreated dog.

"I'll be fine."

Fiona saw movement. Pryce was turning his shotgun on MacCready. Her own reflexes surprised her as she released Roshambo and fired an electric shot at the leg that hadn't already been crippled. The Gunner dropped his weapon and twitched violently on the ground.

MacCready slipped the chain collar off from around the dog's neck and held his muzzle close to his face. Dogmeat showed its good graces with several licks. Such compassion despite its obvious misery surprised Fiona. Was the mutt acquainted with him? "Oh god, Dogmeat, what have they done to you?" She could hear depression in MacCready's voice. Was he on the verge of tears? Fiona couldn't blame him. Suddenly his disposition transformed into one of malevolence. It became so dark-hued that Fiona shuddered. "Fiona, could you Stimpack her?"

"Do dogs get the same dose?" she asked him, rummaging through the pack he dropped on the floor and pulling out a very large needle.

"Yes." He was up and striding to where Pryce was crumpled.

Fiona crawled her way to Dogmeat and stroked her fur. It was so gnarled and matted with blood and knots that, despite her sympathy for the creature, she couldn't help but feel a little grossed out. But then she rested her muzzle on Fiona's lap and panted and the Vault Hunter's heart warmed considerably. "Alright pooch, here comes a shot." She cringed as the needle popped through skin and muscle. Fiona pressed down on the plunger, tossing the now vacant syringe to the side. She had to admit, the medicine on Earth was pretty impressive. Not only did they drag Rhys back from death, but here she was watching the more minor wounds Dogmeat bore sealing themselves together. The German Shepherd definitely appeared to relax a bit. Were stimpacks laced with pain relievers as well?

Flying on auto-pilot, Fiona scoured the pack for food. Dogmeat had to be starving.

But then the merc was talking and she looked his way. "How _dare_ you hurt Dogmeat and - " MacCready's fierce growl paused only long enough for his glare to drift downwards. He had seen the same strange, bulky item on Pryce's wrist that Fiona noticed earlier. While she couldn't tell his expression with his back to her, it wasn't difficult to discern the quivering rage clawing and snarling at the cage of his own will. MacCready practically dove for Pryce, hauling him onto gunshot-riddled legs with one hand as the Gunner screamed with tears flowing down his cheeks. " _Where did you get that_?"

"Please, man," Pryce pleaded. "I don't know wha - "

"The **Pip-Boy** , you dumb shit! Where the _**fuck**_ is she?" It was the first time Fiona actually heard MacCready use stronger curse words. Her ears were actually ringing. "What have you done to her?"

Fiona watched MacCready brandish his combat knife and decided now would be a good time to focus on finding Dogmeat some grub to chow down on. She found a roasted lizard on a stick and, as disgusting as it looked, it actually smelled fairly delicious. Dogmeat sniffed the air excitedly, so Fiona pulled one but of flesh off at a time to feed her. It certainly distracted her from the squelch of MacCready's dagger plowing into the meat between Pryce's ribs, although it didn't block out the ensuing scream.

"AH SHIT, I don't know - GODDAMNIT!"

"Start _speaking_ you piece of shit, or **I start twisting**!"

" _It was here before_!"

"What do you mean?!"

"Some Children of Atom crazies were here before us - _AUGH_ , **stop it**! I'm telling the truth?"

Fiona focused on stroking Dogmeat's muzzle. She couldn't handle more than a few bites of food - her stomach must have shrank from the lack of it. The Vault Hunter watched MacCready through the corners of her eyes but was careful not to look too closely. It was kind of badass, watching him interrogate Pryce like that. But she felt kind of bad for the Gunner. _Kind of_.

"And what happened to them?"

"Shit man, what do ya think?" _Rip!_ " **SON OF A FUCK** , we killed 'em a'ight? They were fuckin' fanatics! Charged us the second we got here! One of 'em was carrying the Pip-Boy! The dog was here already! They were takin' good care of her, but _Vic_ recognized her! He's the one who did it, **_not me_**!"

MacCready said nothing for a good long while. He just breathed heavily. Fiona watched Pryce's expression slowly go more relaxed. He probably thought he was off the hook - a hypothesis proven incorrect as MacCready's combat knife cleaved through his throat. He released the Gunner who groveled on the floor, struggling to stem the bright, spurting blood and losing.

"RJ, huh?" Fiona queried as MacCready joined her on the ground. He slipped the combat knife into its hilt after wiping the crimson off onto his coat.

"Yeah. Robert Joseph." He was distant. Those eyes were somewhere far away despite the mournful stare he laid upon Dogmeat.

"I thought your name was just MacCready. You know, like how Rambo is just Rambo." That got him a little. He smirked and Fiona beamed at her little victory. The silence that settled between them was a little less uncomfortable now. MacCready rolled the 'Pip-Boy' between his hands, having ripped it from Pryce's still-cooling corpse. At his engrossed investigation of the object, Fiona decided to break the quietness. "I won't pretend to know what a Pip-Boy is, but why is it so important? Who did it belong to? Who did _Dogmeat_ belong to?"

Of all the strange answers Fiona was expecting to hear, MacCready had to utter the one she wasn't totally prepared for.

"Nora."


	8. Storm Weathering 101

The relay station was nothing but a brisk run up the hill and through a few trees. For Sasha, this was nothing, but for Rhys - somebody who, only a mere two days ago, had overcome death and a handful of traumatic injuries - the venture was far more painstaking. His body was quick to remind him of the punctured lung and several broken bones he once suffered from, providing sharp pleural pains that ripped back and forth through his torso. Sasha turned to see him partially doubled-over, still making his way up the incline but with his feet dragging, chest heaving, and gulping for air.

"Whoops." Spurred on by a wave of guilt, Sasha backtracked. Rhys managed a pitiful, apologetic smile but she would have none of it and kept her pace slow and steady so he had a chance to catch his breath. "Forgot you're still kinda ... "

"I'm - " _wheeze_ " - completely - " _cough_ " - fine." Rhys straightened to the effect of proving he was a macho man. Then he stumbled over a hidden rock and immediately held his left side with metallic fingers, mewling. "Didn't hurt. Just startled. I'm _totally_ good."

"You're a terrible liar." Sasha hooked her hand through the crook of his robotic elbow and pulled him along. Even with her head facing the other way, she could almost feel the warmth from his face. He was so damned _shy_ about his affections - it was freaking **adorable**. And it definitely added some spring to his step.

Getting to the relay tower was easy but ... well ... honestly Sasha was expecting a bit much. Definitely more than what they were getting, at least. The array wasn't impressive - just a red-and-white painted steel tower. Three satellites were attached to it, all facing in different directions and each with about twenty feet difference from one another. The tower itself was maybe ... ah, 80 feet tall? It was surrounded on three sides by a rusted chain-link fence, with the fourth side mangled and twisted on the ground by some unknown force. It had probably been that way for a very long time. A corroded metal sign reading '1DL-109' hung lopsided on what miniscule part of it was still standing.

There was a Protectron, too. Keyword: _was_. Numerous bullet holes riddled its metal corpse and it lay as nothing more than a pile of scrap in a puddle of water. Parts of it had been pried apart, its more valued bits scavenged for some 'greater good' by a Commonwealth raider or settler.

"God, this old-world tech is so _lunky_ ," criticized Rhys, attempting to kick it over and failing miserably. It was way too heavy. "If they were able to harness nuclear energy, you'd think they would've streamlined the bots."

"It looks like the one I squashed." Poor Takahashi, taken from his prime before his noodles were cooked.

She couldn't identify why he looked so cheeky all of a sudden and assumed a joke was on the way. "Right, when you fell - did it hurt?"

Sasha blinked. "Yes, Rhys," she deadpanned. "Yes. It hurt."

"N-No I mean - " It was like he faceplanted pavement without actually falling. Rhys touched his two index fingers together and concentrated hard on them. "Y-you were supposed to say, 'Did what hurt?' and I was going to say, 'When you fell from h - ' n-nevermind that was stupid and - and - oh look here's a terminal!" He slipped past her a little too quickly. "Annnnnnd _that's_ been shot, too."

 _Was he really going to use_ _ **that**_ _line?_ Internally she was giggling, externally she was rubbing the bridge of her nose and groaning.

Like he said, the one computer terminal the relay station had was in the same condition as its Protectron. Rhys either didn't notice or was too lost in thought _to_ notice the Ham Radio perched above the busted computer. She grabbed the microphone and pulled it down.

"Testing, testing, one two ... this thing isn't working either." Rhys tapped her shoulder, pointed to radio, and flipped on its power. "Oh." _Smooth_. "Uh ... testing, testing - "

Deacon's voice filtered over to them. _"Vault 81 coming in loud and proud."_ The Railroad Heavy presented himself with an air of overcompensating ego when they met him at the Sunshine Diner. Even over the radio, he was over-confident. _"That suave, sunshine voice would have to be, let me guess ... Sasha? What's up, gorgeous?"_

She could see the corner of Rhys' mouth twitch ever-so-slightly and laughed. "We're at the relay tower. The terminal's been shot."

_"Yeah, I figured it was gonna happen sooner or later. So Rhys, how's your mountaineering skills?"_

The Atlas CEO's somewhat pleasant demeanor completely flatlined. "I was afraid he was going to say that. I mean not _that_ in particular but - "

"He says it'll be a cake-walk," Sasha translated with a wink. Rhys was somewhere between 'flattered' and 'deer-in-the-headlights'.

_"Coolio! He's gonna have to check each of the satellite connections. Just one of 'em is down. Hit us up when you think you have it. And Rhys? Don't look down."_

"Noted," grumbled the man with the cybernetic eye.

Sasha replaced the microphone and joined him in staring upwards. "Is there anything I can, uh, help with?" She didn't know why she asked. Her electronics skill was subpar.

"I've got this," Rhys answered, clapping his hands together with a very nervous smile. "There's no ladder. Totally _not_ going to plummet to my death or anything like that. _Pshhh_ , it's only like seventy feet - "

"Eighty."

" _Eighty_ feet and - "

" **Breath** , Rhys." Sasha was surprised when he 'came back to earth' long enough to do just that. She gently ushered him forward with a firm pat on the back, thinking back to their time in the Atlas biodome when the catwalk gave out beneath them. "I won't let you fall, remember?"

Rhys focused on something nonexistent and the perturbation circumscribing his facial features diminished into an expression that was much more reassured. She'd hit the confidence-driving nail on the head with that one. He rubbed his hands together and exhaled slowly. "I"ve got this," he repeated, sounding a lot more like he actually believed in what he was saying. "I've _got_ this." Rhys grabbed the steel bars directly in front of his head and ascended.

The first satellite was only about twelve feet off the ground and once he'd gotten his bearings, Rhys went to work. Sasha had to admit that watching him perform any kind of technological endeavor was something to marvel at. Those cybernetic implants definitely came in handy more than once throughout the past. She recalled the computer room at the Death Race - rather, how he had smacked the machine at first and quickly reassured that he only did it to entertain her, then cracked his knuckles and went on to doing the _real_ work. And she remembered how impressed she'd been ... how impressed she still _was_ ... and idly wondered if that was when she first started to admire him.

Rhys removed something from one of his silver fingers and jammed it into the satellite's back. His eyes narrowed in concentration, again leering at what could not be seen by the average human. What was it? A hologram perceived by the Synth eye alone? A data reel? A series of numbers and letters than none of them but him and Vaughn could hope to discern? God, the intensity on his face when he did that sort of stuff scared the shit out of her sometimes, but it was also pretty sexy.

He cursed under his breath, shook his head, removed his hand and climbed further up. And ... ah ... _What the hell?_ Sasha dared to stare at his rear and smiled her approval. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense about that crap. He just happened to look over his shoulder - probably to see how high up he was an proceed to mentally freak himself out. Sasha averted her eyes quickly, feeling her own blush streak across her nose. _Clack, clack, clack_ rang his shoes against the steel beams. Rhys must not have noticed her curious stare because he was on the move again. So she returned to what was becoming her favorite past time, cocking her head and rubbing her chin, smirking.

The second satellite must have yielded the same result as the first. Rhys looked up at the final one with pained, wistful reproach. 'You're kidding me,' he mouthed, then said aloud, "I'm starting to regret my choice of profession."

Sasha cupped her hands around her mouth. "It's only eighty feet up!"

"That's not helping!"

Sacrificing speed for safety, Rhys slowed to almost a crawl during the final ascent. He hooked his legs around metal as he came to a stop and proceeded on with what he'd done for the last two satellites. "Bingo!" A hologram appeared from his robotic palm and, with a few deft swipes from his human hand, Rhys began breaking into the system to exact some repairs. The whole process didn't take exceptionally long. Before she knew it, the CEO was calling down for her to contact Deacon.

_"Systems are go! At least that's what it looks like. Hold on, I'm gonna test communications."_

"The hell was that?" Rhys exclaimed. He was facing west. Sasha looked but saw nothing.

_"Vault 81 to Sanctuary Hills. Come in, Sanctuary Hills."_

As Sasha turned her head back to the radio, Rhys hollered again. This time she managed to catch a glimpse of whatever he'd seen. It was bright, it was red, and it was vanishing beyond the clouds on wings made of fire. "What are there, firebirds now?" tittered Rhys, anxious all over again. "Because Deathclaws are one thing. But firebirds - nope. Nope. Nope."

"Maybe we're seeing things," Sasha attempted to placate the situation. "The same thing ... at the exact same time ... in the same place ... " Yeah. It didn't sound convincing to her either.

_"Vault 81 to Sanctuary Hills. Do you copy?"_

_"Sanctuary Hills responding. Preston here. How are things, Deacon?"_ Whoever replied sounded bulkier than Deacon. His voice was much deeper and commanded a lot more respect. _"We lost communication with you for a while there."_

_"Satellite was down. Sent a rookie out to fix it. How're the Minutemen holding up?"_

_"Still protecting the Commonwealth as best we can. There's no end to these feral ghoul and raider attacks ... "_

Deacon and Preston went back and forth for a bit there, but Sasha stopped listening in on them and began honing in on her surroundings. That bright crimson bird thing made her fairly uneasy and she wasn't sure if it was going to try and spring down upon them from above. "Might be a good time to get down, Rhys!" she hollered. He didn't need her to tell him that. Rhys was already working his way to the bottom, pausing once to look southwards. Whatever he saw, she heard. It was distant but it was unmistakable. _Thunder_.

"Got some green clouds and lightning." _Clack, clack, clack_. "RadStorm?"

"Shit." Sasha pressed down on the microphone, interrupting the 'catching up' that was going on. "Hey, we've got a RadStorm rolling in."

 _"Ohhh, that's not good,"_ Deacon confirmed her fears. _"You guys're gonna have to take cover. Those storms are fast as hell. You won't make it back to the Vault in time. If you, hmm ... "_ Crumpling paper sounded in the background as Deacon unfurled a map. _"Yep, head northeast. Used to be an old settlement called Oberland Station. They merged with Abernathy last month so the place is empty. Still got some decent buildings there though, just clear through 'em, make sure nothing else took up residence, ya get me? Look for the train tracks. And make sure you pop some Rad-X."_

Sasha nodded numbly, more concentrated on Rhys, concerned because he stopped descending at about forty-five feet up to lean against the tower and curse. The way he favored his left arm made it plaintively clear it was cramping up on him. "What about Fiona and MacCready?"

_"Mac knows the Commonwealth better than any of us. He'll make sure they get to shelter, don't you worry Bright-Eyes."_

"Roger that, Mr. Man." She intended to sound pleasant but instant came off as distant. Hitching the microphone to where it belonged, Sasha hedged around the tower's base. "You okay?"

"Arm's stiff," he responded with a grimace. Rhys forced his recently-healed arm to work by grabbing at a beam. "I'm fi - "

Clearly not _fine_. As he stretched his robotic arm downward to grab another piece of steel, the digits on his left hand just kind of ... released involuntarily. Rhys made to snatch at whatever he could but was too far away. Bleating a shrill scream, the concrete ground was coming up way too fast and he was flailing -

\- and true to her promise, Sasha caught him. "You really are the Black Cat," she teased.

He squeaked a microscopic, "My hero," with extremely wide eyes and exceptionally pale skin.

"Hey Rhys?"

"W-what?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Did w-wha-at hurt?" He was shaking hard, too spooked to realize what he was walking himself into - up until he saw her smug smile and half-lidded eyes.

"When you fell from heaven?"

If he kept melting in her arms like this, she was going to have to start carrying a bucket around.

* * *

If ever there was a testament of man's ability to adapt to even the most ragged of situations, Oberland Station would have definitely been in at least the top ten. Once upon a time it was but one of many stops along these busy train tracks. It probably used to be bustling with people needing to get to the next town or waystation or wherever. Now it was a dead husk of its former self. Years of weathering, radiation and firefights had withered the main building into a corroded version of itself: white paint all but run off; windows missing; stairs with half of the steps gone. But yet, here it stood. A single unlit lantern sat in the doorway as a reminder that there had been life there not so long ago.

The main station was definitely not the only building left standing. Several were splayed across either side of the tracks - little shanties constructed of wood and steel alike. None of them looked too appealing to the eye save for one wooden home tucked away in the center, hidden inconspicuously behind several Nuka Cola and milk machines. All about the once prosperous civilization were odds and ends that made everything a little more homely: a jukebox, some trader stands, a workbench for weapons and another for armor, a communal spit and cooking pot within the settlement's center, water pumps, and some large, heavy metal scaffolding looking like it was designed to hold something very, very heavy. There were several lookout points on either end of Oberland Station, each overlaid by dozens of sandbags. It was a huge surprise that this place hadn't yet been reclaimed by the odd settler - it was still fairly well fortified and almost screamed, 'Move in today!'

Rhys had almost strolled on in with no caution whatsoever. Sasha was quick to grab his shoulder and shake her head firmly. "We should comb through first." Thunder rumbled deep and loud. The sky was still blue, but it wouldn't be for much longer.

The Atlas CEO fumbled in his coat for the shock baton, extending it to full length and flipping the odd melee weapon on. Arcs of blue electricity zipped across the tip. Sasha would have dismissed the weapon as pathetic if she hadn't already seen it in action. But holy _crap_ did that thing have a bite. One little **tap** would send some idiot flying.

Sasha shouldered her SMG. "You go left, I go right?"

He looked a little more confident with the baton at his disposal, but a heavy undertone of fear lingered. Rhys was no fighter - he didn't need to get himself into a brawl just to prove _that_. So it was with stark seriousness when he asked her, "If I start screaming you'll come running, right?"

Silence.

"Right?"

He turned.

" ... Sash?"

Damn, she was quick. Sasha must have already started ducking and weaving through the buildings. Rhys rubbed the back of his neck at his own inadequacy. Well crap, if she could do it, why was he wasting time just standing around? He thought of Savage and wondered how bad anything else could be in comparison to that beast. But then he remembered the same radiation had probably gone and mutated everything else into massive, ornery monsters with a taste for human flesh and Rhys found himself hesitating to even look through the first door he came across.

So he threw a rock in first.

When nothing came leaping to eat his face off, the former Hyperion shimmied quietly through. A heavy layer of dust coated just about everything, but aside from several hundreds of dust bunnies and a spider here and there, there was nothing to be terrified about. He paused at a lantern and checked to see if it still had oil. There was no telling how long the storm was going to last, and it was prone to get dark out before they could make their way back to the Vault. Rhys strolled out the door with a little more courage in his step.

He finally bumped into Sasha about halfway across the settlement. "Didja get scared?" she asked with a toothy grin and it became apparent that she'd already gone through her side of the tracks and was working her way down Rhys'.

"I was being tactfully cautious."

"Sounds like you got scared."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

There was only one building left and that was the well-built one. From the outside it was obvious that its construction came from before the bombs unless there was a functioning saw mill somewhere around that nobody knew about. Who could make log cabins anymore anyway? Most of the trees were either burned or rotten.

Rhys ran his fingers along a long claw mark on the cabin's outer wall and shuddered. "They warned us about raiders. You think it's kind of weird we haven't seen any yet?"

"Don't jinx us, Black Cat," warned Sasha.

"Meow." He was rewarded with a stifled chuckle. "But really. No raiders. Don't you think it's ... ," Rhys waved the shock baton and grinned wide, " ... _shocking_?"

He was clearly saving that lame joke for her. Sasha laughed, poking him in the ribs as she passed into the cabin. "Oh my _god_ you're such a dork."

"I try." His ears were burning again.

"Really? I thought it came naturally."

"Naturally _genius_." Rhys waited for a snarky comeback, but when Sasha couldn't disagree, he strutted with credence after her. Then, "Whoah, it's actually _nice_."

Neither of them were expecting the Taj Mahal after drifting through the 'glorious mansions' of Oberland Station, but this ... this was a five-star hotel among cockroach-ridden motels. Sure there was soot and an accumulation of strange bits that didn't belong - in a nuclear wasteland, that was to be expected. But _marble_ countertops? A rug that, though dirty, was still really plush? Fine redwood cabinets and a really soft-looking couch that had to be satin or something equally pleasant to the touch?

Of course the windows were no longer intact, but somebody jury-rigged wooden shutters so that they could be opened or closed from the inside and latched in place.

They walked side-by-side, scoping through each room in search of hidden dangers. There was a pantry laden with several cans of food and an array of spices. Why was all of that left behind? _Were they leaving it for whoever might come through?_ He almost dismissed the passing thought, thinking nobody could be that generous and then recalling that if people hadn't been, he wouldn't be alive right now.

Sasha uttered a moan. "I could kill for a bath in that." Rhys looked over her shoulder and whistled. She'd found the bathroom and _holy hell_ that tub was massive.

"Is there even any running water?" he thought out-loud. Sasha spun the sink's handle and her nose wrinkled in disgust. What came out was thick, brown, and smelled of sulfur.

"Oh that's _gnarly_." They both drew back coughing and covering their noses. Rhys closed the door behind her as Sasha scrambled blindly out.

 _Hurk_.

Then there was the bedroom and a really, really big mattress. Rhys flipped off the shock baton and belly-flopped onto it. _FWUMP!_ A cloud of dust exploded all over him. "Oh _gawd_ \- bad idea, bad idea!" He rolled off, hacking. Sasha, in stitches, helped him to his feet and started patting the gunk off his back. They were soon choking in unison, laughing when they could get a breath in.

Once the air cleared - and it took some time - Sasha found a walk-in closet and flung it open. She donned the train conductor's hat found on the top shelf and spun around for Rhys. "How do I look?"

It slipped out before he could check himself. "Ridiculously cute."

"Looks like I'll have to keep it then," she winked, pretending to pull down an air horn's handle. " _Chugga chugga choo choo_."

He looked at her with an expression that said, _'Stop being adorable or I'm gonna have to squish you with the biggest of hugs.'_

"Maybe we should hold out here," she recommended after collecting herself. "I didn't see any cracks in the walls and we can just close those shutters." They made their way back to the kitchen. Rhys put the lantern down on the kitchen island - yes, there was an _island_. Sasha plopped the rucksack next to it.

"There should be a generator somewhere," Rhys told her. "I saw wires all over the place and a lot of what's here needs power." His glowing Synth eye focused on yet another Ham Radio sitting where a television probably once stood in the living room. If they could get it working, they could contact the Vault.

Sasha's mouth opened and closed rapidly. She pointed at him. "I actually saw it on the other side of the tracks, let me check it out." She disappeared beyond the door before Rhys could say anything.

Not even a heartbeat's breadth later she was shrieking.

"Sasha!"

He didn't remember flipping on the shock baton or even sprinting towards the door - looking back, he wouldn't have thought he could _move_ that fast. He was virtually gliding to a Sasha pinned under some massive, black, writhing _thing_ and thought for just a millisecond that scorpions weren't supposed to be that **big** -

\- he wasn't thinking, only _doing_ , only skidding to a halt next to Sasha and the mutant monster that shouldn't exist with the shock baton out to his side and the scorpion's tail poised to strike -

" **FORE**!"

Rhys envisioned the thing getting slammed so hard it would go flying off into the RadStorm clouds edging in on their location. Electricity sparked, blue bolts whipping across the monster's black exoskeleton. But it didn't budge. It didn't even look _stunned_.

It did, however, notice him. And it realized it had been attacked. Changing the stinger's target only required the scorpion to angle itself ever so slightly and Rhys arched backwards in time for the venom-tipped barb to skim past the edge of his nose and stop a mere two inches from his gut. He reeled backwards, damn near losing his footing as the Giant Radscorpion scuttled impossibly fast off of Sasha and was now charging towards _him_.

"Crapcrapcrap - " Rhys wheeled around and bolted, hearing the clicking of the arachnid's dangerous claws and _feeling_ the wind swish as the stinger launched into the ground where his foot had been a second ago.

Sasha sat up and aimed the SMG. The bullets ricocheted off the scorpion's thick armor one by one. It wasn't even phased, dead-set intent on snatching Rhys because he was so much closer to it than she was. There was a Nuka Cola machine in front of him. Somewhere in Rhys' head a lightbulb _ping_ -ed to life and he clambered first on top of the vending machine and then onto the cabin's roof while the Radscorpion's massive pedipalps ripped through the machine's plastic front.

Rhys had to lay on his belly for what he was planning, reaching below the roof and grabbing the back edge of the Nuka Cola machine. His robot arm was stronger than his normal one. It didn't fail him now, slowly tipping over the beverage dispenser while the huge stingy thing snapped and stabbed and hissed. Connective wires strained, eventually giving way with several loud _SNAP_ s. Then there was a disgusting albeit satisfying crunch and the Giant Radscorpion was reduced to a twitching, crumbled mass beneath the machine, its stinger spasmodically striking at metal due to muscle twitches and nothing more.

He remained gawking at the scene for a while, not fully registering what had just happened until Sasha offered him both a hand down and his shock baton back (had he dropped it? He didn't _recall_ dropping it ... ) When realization finally settled in, Rhys was hovering over Sasha's every cut and scratch with panicked, "Are you hurt? Did it sting you?"

"Rhys," she said. " _Rhys_ , I'm fine, really, seriously." But she was saying it more to herself than anybody else. Sasha was trembling, pupils constricted into a state of shock.

He'd never seen her that _scared_ before. Without hesitating, Rhys pulled her into a tight hug, hating that this whole event had reduced her to a quivering mass and struck with the strangest bitter desire to chop what was left of the Radscorpion - or anything that got _close_ to her right now, really - into very tiny pieces. Christ, he could actually feel her bounding heart against his chest - not like his was any better at the given moment, but she had always been the strong one ...

"You _are_ fine," he told her firmly, as though reaffirming her previous statement was going to make her feel any more secure.

Really, it might _have_ done the trick because her shaking was becoming less and less violent. Rhys didn't break his embrace, quietly running his free hand through her hair and kissing her forehead until her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed. Only then did he wrap an arm around Sasha's waist and lead her into the cabin. He sat her down on the sofa, then went rooting through the rucksack to find her a bottle of purified water.

Rhys kneeled in front of her and held her hand, gently planting his lips on one of her knuckles. "I'm gonna go find the generator," he told her despite _really_ not wanting to leave her side - much more because of his want to comfort her than his fear of the dangers that lurked outside. Seeing her even the slightest bit rattled was actually making his chest ache. "Just ... relax, okay? I'll be back in no time." Sasha nodded numbly.

As he stood to go, Sasha's voice crackled to life. "Rhys?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful ... " He couldn't place that look in her eyes - it was so alien for her - but it made his heart leap into his throat and his knees wobble.

Rhys winked. _Gah_ , he hadn't meant to, didn't even know he was _going_ to, but there it was. He held out a metal arm, digit extended. "Pinky promise."

She smiled - truly; boldly; genuinely - and Rhys realized he would do anything to see that smile.

* * *

"There's no gas," Rhys told her when he came back. He was out of breath, like he'd just gotten through with running ... and for good reason. The RadStorm loomed above Oberland Station. It cast an eerie green glow upon Rhys as he closed the door behind himself. _Deacon wasn't lying,_ Sasha thought to herself. _They really do move fast as hell ..._

In the next minute, he was a flurry of activity - slipping from one window to the next and closing the shutters. With no light to go by it was easy for Rhys to crash into every single wall while hunting for the lantern. A sizzle of flame later, the room was partially lit with a flickering orange hue. Then it was a frantic search through the rucksack for the Rad-X tablets, keeping one for himself and then tossing the bottle to Sasha. She shucked it back with a gulp of water.

"How often are we supposed to take those?"

"Mac said one daily depending on the exposure." Rhys' face twisted to the door, brow raised. "And RadStorms only last for like an hour unless it - "

The sky opened up. Heavy droplets struck hard on the cabin's roof.

" - rains ... "

"I think we might be grounded for the night," Sasha said with a helpful little smile. She was feeling much better now - mostly because Rhys made it back safely. The Atlas CEO made his way to the sofa, resigning to a cushion and sinking in with a sigh. Sasha crawled her way over to him and snuggled into his chest. He'd become quickly comfortable with those cuddling positions, readily wrapping his arms around her and resting his head atop of her's. "I don't suppose you've got more of the Storyteller, d'you?"

"Actually ... " He opened his robotic palm and a familiar holographic screen emerged. "Where'd we leave off?"

"FEV and Super Mutants."

Sasha took it upon herself to swipe through the screen, refusing to let go of Rhys' other arm because really it was just too comfortable where it was. The cybernetic-imbued man found it endearing.

A familiar voice reverberating through Power Armor chimed to life. _"When the apocalypse was on the horizon, people became desperate to preserve civilization. For people who survived Armageddon inside a Vault, life became an exercise in maintaining the status quo as much as possible for as long as possible ... "_

Seconds became minutes, which became hours. Rhys and her flipped through one episode after another, occasionally getting up to roam curiously around the cabin. There were several hidden stashes of various objects all over the place. Sasha accidentally ripped a board off the floor and found several bottles of liquor, leaving them in place for, "the next denizens to find." Rhys was far less fortunate. He'd walked back into the bedroom and was promptly bombed with a gray fuzzball of a cat that came crashing through the cockloft nobody knew was there. When he started squealing, Sasha came running. The ferocious feline was running laps around his head, then fell to the floor in a pile of hisses and fur that zipped out of sight somewhere in the cabin.

Sasha took it upon herself to nurse the freshly-scratched and 'what-the-hell-just-happened'-scared Rhys' wounds and was shocked to see several of them were already in the process of healing. Right. The Monocyte Breeder. How could she forget? Later on when Rhys would stalk off, he would occasionally crouch down at the sight of streaking gray and call, "Here, kitty kitty ... "

Suffice to say, the cat never _did_ come out of hiding. That was probably for the best.

Neither of them grubbed out until their stomachs were practically holding conversations with each other. MacCready had made sure they'd packed enough to last them at least two days. Sasha was staring at a package labeled 'Dandy Boy Apples' and found herself looking at the packaging date.

"Best by June 13, 2077," she recited.

Rhys stuck out his tongue and held up another box. "Want some 200 year-old salisbury steak?"

Eventually they wound up splitting some dehydrated meat things. Sasha remembered MacCready telling her that they were called Mole Rat Chunks and decided to withhold that information so Rhys didn't spew all over the place.

The rain never let up once. It took about an hour for the thunder and lightning to catch up.

"It almost sounds metallic, doesn't it?" Rhys asked when they lay back and listened to it's crude rumbling. It really did rattle similarly to when somebody took a big piece of sheet metal and flapped it.

"Felix taught us this thing when Fi and I were kids." She felt Rhys' eyes lock onto her. He had to be surprised, and why shouldn't he? Felix was still a sore subject for her. There mere mention of his name usually led to cramping in her heart and a kindling fuse of anger in her brain. When Fiona told her what happened after she got ahold of him before confronting the Traveler, though, that rage was slowly being quelled. It felt nice to finally be reaching some closure. "Whenever you hear thunder, you're supposed to count 'one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand' and keep going until you hear the next bit of thunder. Supposed to measure how far away the heart of the storm is or something. Pretty sure it's bullshit."

The ground quaked with the next monstrous quake and Rhys counted out loud. "One-one thousand, two - " _Cccrrraaack!_ Sasha feigned a frightened squeak so Rhys would hold her tighter. "Totally still over us." He was grinning. "My nana used to tell me the same thing."

 _Nana?_ She'd never heard him mention his family before. And ... She looked upwards, kissing his jaw to get his attention. "Now that I think about it, I don't know anything about you from before Hyperion."

Through the dimming glow of lantern-light, Sasha could no longer tell if he was blushing or not. He had the gentlest smile and the lantern was bringing out some of the most youthful, handsome features he had. Judging by the quivering iris behind the fire dancing in his human eye, she had to wonder if he was thinking something similar about her.

He was also oggling for a little too long. Sasha's mouth quirked upwards. "You're doing the creepy thing again," she told him playfully.

"What creepy thing?"

"The staring thing."

Rhys blinked and looked away. "Totally not. Not staring."

"You totally _were_."

He seemed to give it some afterthought and his lips tugged into a small smile, head bobbing to the side but still looking away. " ... Maybe a little."

 _Shit_. Sasha **knew** her cheeks were bursting rosily. She nudged him with her shoulder in an attempt to distract herself. "So, c'mon, details! I wanna know about pre-Hyperion-slash-Atlas Rhys."

Rhys laughed. "It's nowhere near as interesting as present Rhys. I'd bore you to tears."

"Hmmm, so, nerd straight outta the womb, eh?"

"There's no other way to be."

They sat in comfortable silence, accompanied only by the rain and the thunder.

"Rhys?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks for saving me."

"You're always saving _me_." But something had flashed across his human iris and Sasha thought it appeared sorrowful. Rhys swallowed hard. "I - uh - I don't want anything to ... to happen to you." He wanted to say more - she could see the way he was hesitating, maybe trying to figure out how to word it properly. Sasha remained silent until he was able to coax himself into spilling it. "Back when I was ... ah .. back when I was dying I guess ... "

She saw his lifeless form on the infirmary cot and buried her head in his chest, thankful for the heartbeat she was hearing now.

"I kept going right back to after the Traveler, when you ... you know. Except it was - well it was different. It didn't play out the way I knew it did and you - you ... " Rhys tried to very subtly rub the corner of his regular eye and rid himself of what Sasha suspected was a tear. "I knew initially that I was having a nightmare over and over again. But it just kept replaying and I couldn't do anything to change it. Eventually I ... I started thinking that maybe it really _did_ happen that way. That I was dead and being forced through my own personal hell or something ... I started hoping I _was_ dead so I didn't have to wake up and face that reality."

He wasn't looking at her. Sasha wondered if he felt ashamed and squeezed him gently. There were several times throughout his medical lab stay where Sasha had woken up to witness him sobbing in his comatose state. It made much more sense now.

She cupped his cheek with her hand. He responded to her warmth by leaning into it and closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she uttered wearily.

Rhys blinked his orbs open and their stares met. "What for?" he asked, confused.

"After Helios exploded ... for the six months between landing on Pandora and finally reuniting. We should have looked harder. I mean, we scoured the biodome a couple of times, but we must have gotten there before you did. And when we found the Helios crash site, we saw your arm and some wires and blood stains and thought ... we thought you didn't make it ... that the wildlife dragged you off."

"You couldn't have known - "

"Did you know," Sasha pressed on, determined to say what she felt was needed, "that I cried myself to sleep for a really long time after that - don't you tell anybody I told you. It took me almost three months to start getting a grip on myself. Or I thought I did. I started doing stupid little things to remind me of you. Started putting a flower behind my ear and - "

"The pants." Rhys cracked a smile.

"Yeah, the pants." She laughed, elated to see some of the sadness evaporate from the Atlas president's face. "You noticed?"

"How couldn't I?" Bashfully, he grinned. "You uh ... look really - really gorgeous, by the way ... "

She pecked his cheek. "You work it better."

"N-Nuh-uh ... "

"Yeah-huh." She chuckled. "I thought somehow by doing that ... I dunno, you'd notice, or keep watch, or be proud wherever you were. I really didn't want to let go, and I really didn't wanna forget. I was still this ball of depression though. Fiona was the total opposite."

She was pleased when Rhys cut loose a hearty laugh. Sasha lifted herself off of him and the former Hyperion sat up. "Oh yeah, she was _pissed_ at me when Loader Bot kidnapped us."

"She and I switch around emotionally like that. Whenever Felix happened, holy shit, I was a fucking bomb just waiting to go off and Fi was all melancholy. Then you dropped off the face of the planet and I was the biggest sad sack you've ever seen. Sis became the apocalypse." The gun fanatic rubbed her arm, unaware she was copying Rhys' nervous tick. "I - well - you confused the hell out of me, you know? I started feeling all of these things I never really felt before and - and I don't wanna lose you either and ... and ... "

 _Just fucking say it already, will you?_ And she tried, she really did. But Rhys' fingers traced up either side of her jaw and his lips met her's with a passion that far surpassed every other kiss they shared up until that point. His hands moved down to her waist and held her close to him. A radiant heat was emitting from his body that Sasha couldn't quite describe, but she willing to bet steam would erupt from his shirt collar if she tugged on it. They remained lip-locked like that until neither could stand the act of not breathing. Even then, he pulled away slowly - never once breaking his gaze from her's. _There's that intense stare again._

She felt her limbs grow weak and her heart beat strong. Their faces were mere inches apart. "Sasha," he began, mustering up more courage than she (and probably he) realized he had, "I - "

A rough gust of wind slammed open a shutter that had been improperly latched, whipping out the lantern's fire in the process. Rhys practically flung himself across the room like a housewife who'd seen a mouse. Whenever he climbed back to his feet he was stumbling through the dark. Night had fallen outside and not even the glow of RadStorm clouds could pierce that darkness. Sasha found herself bursting into a fit of giggles as he walked into one thing after the other until finally coming upon the open window. She removed herself from the couch and walked over to join him.

"There we go," he mumbled, sounding irate that radiation-fuelled Mother Nature had ruined his confession. Sasha placed a hand on his back and he turned. She couldn't see him in the dark, but she imagined he was grinning awkwardly and blushing like mad. "I - uh - what I was gonna s - "

Instead of letting him finish, Sasha intended to get revenge on him for cutting her off earlier, returning the favor by pressing him softly against the wall and attacking his starving lips with her hungry ones.

* * *

It caught Rhys by surprise, but Sasha pressing firmly against him pressing firmly against the _wall_ was just - _everything_ and then some. His hands were at her waist and he was certain his fingers were twitching - no - _spasming_ because now Sasha was prying apart his lips with her tongue and - and -

He was pretty sure his heart became a volcano, dripping molten lava into his belly each time it pulsed. Static was blotting out rational thought. Robotic fingers traced to the back of her head, holding her head close to his as he responded in kind. It was taking an incredible amount of control to keep himself from doing more, but Sasha was forcing him to break any and all limits he was setting for himself by surpassing them without regard. barely pausing long enough to see if he would follow her lead - and he really _didn't_ need a whole lot of time to catch up.

Rhys wasn't fully aware that she had removed his vest and was in the process of removing his dress shirt until the last button was undone. He almost gasped when her delicate fingers ran up the spinal indentation of his naked back.

Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was the itch to prove he was just as bold as she was, but Rhys twirled with her so that it was _he_ holding her up against the cabin. His hands went to work removing that hoodie, then the shirt, then fumbling with the bra clasp as he lowered his mouth to her neck and nipped while she shuddered against him and moaned.

 _Get a grip, Rhys!_ his mental voice scolded him, and Rhys knew that it was right. "Damn - no - I need to tell you something - "

But her mouth was tangling with his again and she pushed him backwards until he fell onto the sofa. Sasha straddled him, pressing down on his chest until he was forced to lay flat. Rhys was glad the furniture happened to be wide enough to hold both of them with room left over.

"Sure - what's up?"

The innuendo wasn't lost on him, and biting back the urge to make a joke, he responded instead by pulling her down to his level instead. His hands ran up along her chest, feeling every perfect curve until they came to her shoulders, where they rounded to the back of her head and forced their lips to meet in yet another fevered tango. He didn't allow his fingers to linger there long. He traced them down her sides until they found her pants. Sasha was way ahead of him, tangling with his belt (and giggling into his mouth when she couldn't figure out how to remove it right away). This was at least _one_ thing he could outdo her on. Her's was simple but ... but ...

 _Crap ..._ His fingers writhed there for a little too long. He knew full well that if they passed this threshold, he (and most likely, she) wasn't going to stop. He needed to tell her. He needed to tell her _first_ , and **now** because she managed to unbuckle his belt and was going to ... to ...

Rhys tucked his robotic hand into the small of her back and spun the both of them. With his left arm, he pinned her prying fingers where they were, keeping them from roving any further. There was no denying it - the restraint was actually physically painful to him. But he needed to do this. He needed to get it out or he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.

" _I love you_ ," he panted in one breath. It came out too fast and that, he felt, made it sound insincere, so he lowered his face to her's and said it again - slower this time and brimming with all of his heart and soul. "I **love** you."

Rhys wasn't sure why he feared rejection from her so badly when it was clear the sentiment was not his alone, but he had braced himself for the absolute worst. So when Sasha held her face close and pierced his mouth again with something a thousand times more passionate and much less desperate, relief washed over him.

"I know," she crooned. Their foreheads touched. In the darkness, Rhys' glowing Synth eye almost appeared to brighten. Almost. "I love you too."

They lingered there for a while, the frantic nature of their frenzied motions dying down enough to simply let them enjoy each other's presence. Then Sasha shook with laughter.

"Hey Rhys?"

"Hey Sasha?"

"That was so ... _romantic_."

Her laughter intensified when he leaned down with a devilish smile (which of course she couldn't see in their surrounding blackness) to lightly bite her lower lip, playfully jesting, "Oh, you are _so_ gonna pay for that."


	9. Atom

MacCready didn't spend a lot of time standing still, vouching instead to clear out what remained of the tunnel. Fiona couldn't do much with that leg so he'd advised her to stay behind and take care of Dogmeat - which she did, pulling the massive German Shepherd into her lap and stroking her every time she cried. But with each bullet fired off from MacCready's sniper rifle, her mouth twitched. She would much rather be doing something _productive_.

Perhaps it was better this way. The fire in MacCready's eyes before he disappeared into their subterranean hideaway made it clear nothing that got in his way was going to survive. It was so fierce that Fiona flinched backwards, frowning to cover the fact that he'd intimidated her.

And all for that Pip-Boy? No ... for the woman who wore it. Nora. With one hand resting on Dogmeat's mottled skull, Fiona used the other to pull the strange machine to her. The dog's nose twitched, leaned in close to get a whiff off it, and she whined.

"It's okay, girl," thrummed Fiona in as comforting a tone as she could muster. Her fingers fiddled with each button until the Pip-Boy's screen hummed to life. A garbled series of letters and numbers greeted her, none of them making a lick of sense. It was too bad Sasha and Rhys weren't here. She never outwardly gave the programmer much credit beforehand but had to admit that, if he'd been there now, whatever the Pip-Boy was hiding would be exposed in a matter of seconds.

Pryce mentioned something about the Children of Atom. She didn't know who they were or what their agenda was, but when the term 'fanatics' was thrown into the mix, she assumed it was a cult of some kind. Hell, the name rang similar to the Children of Helios - would they be considered a religious faction, too?

She remembered the decapitated statue of Handsome Jack and how Rhys had gushed at the prospect of being considered a 'god'. After being back-stabbed by practically everyone from Hyperion and stepped on by several Pandorans, he'd eaten up all the adoration he could from his devoted 'fans'. Fiona called him a douchebag for it but really, if the statue had _her_ name scrawled on it ... she would have done the same.

Fiona flipped the Pip-Boy over. Scrawled on the inside in very professional engraving was 'Vault 111'. _Another one? That's right ... Nora was in a cryogenic facility. How many Vaults are there?_ With that word continuously flipping through her mind, Fiona found herself longing to be back on Pandora. All that Vault Hunter training, wasted here on Earth ... She wondered what Athena was up to and grinned at the idea of Janey boring her to death with wedding plans. Fiona stared off into the distance, laughing to herself until Dogmeat's pained whimpers brought her back to reality. She administered another stimpack and watched more of the pooch's wounds heal.

What would they do when MacCready got back? There was still the matter of a lost Deathclaw egg ... and with the RadStorm kicking in full force overhead, they weren't going to be leaving any time soon. She wondered if Rhys and Sasha saw it coming and found shelter, if they remembered to take their Rad-X and if they -

"You worry too much." MacCready - she wasn't used to referring to him as RJ, it felt too weird - slunk in like a shadow: completely unheard despite his heavy boots and flapping coat. His rifle was slung across his back and he favored his right arm a little, a palm covering his shoulder. _Is that blood?_ A steady stream of it slipped between his fingers. "You keep frowning like that and you'll get some crazy old-lady-wrinkles. _I mean_ , you'll still be **hot** but you'll look like a _cougar_." By way of excusing himself from the verbal assault Fiona was about to launch upon him, he added with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, "I'd still dig ya, though."

 _That_ was ballsy, but MacCready wasn't a coward. Fiona cackled in pleasant surprise, gently removing Dogmeat from her lap.

"You laughed. I'm off the hook."

"You're only off the hook when I _say_ you are," she countered with a dangerous wag of her finger. "And you're definitely not, so consider that strike one."

He strode beside her and sat with a pained grunt. Without asking his permission or waiting to see what he would do, Fiona pried his bloody fingers, jacket, and shirt away to inspect the injury. "Ah - ah! Easy!"

"Don't be such a wuss." But she whistled at the damage. It wasn't a _terrible_ gunshot wound. Yeah, it was big and it went deep, but it hadn't passed through to the other side and at least it wasn't buckshot. Fiona could see a glint of metal embedded in the flesh and pulled their rucksack closer to hunt for tweezers. "You should've let me come with you."

"Not with your ankle like that. Don't take this the wrong way, but you'd be slowing me down. And they would've dropped you once they saw you were hurt." MacCready hissed as the Vault Hunter dug through ripped muscle, but he didn't scream or whimper. Fiona realized he probably had to do this to himself more than once. "The other side of the tunnel was _packed_. They set up shop with barricades and watchtowers outside. Had to pick 'em off one-by-one. 'Sides, it helped me blow off steam."

She stopped moving her hands and glimpsed Pryce's bloody corpse. Initially Fiona thought it was overkill. But if it'd been Sasha that was missing, she would have done much worse. "You're definitely calmer than what you were." Fiona twitched the tweezers and plucked the bullet out. She held a bottle of water up and nodded (with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a suggestive little smile) for MacCready to remove his clothes.

He did so without complaint. Fiona was expecting him to be a little more built than what he was, but for somebody who slipped to and fro virtually undetected, his wiry frame suited him. He definitely had muscles where it counted. "My face is up here," came his smug retort, and he was smirking when she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Don't want you getting lost in my _glorious_ pecs."

Fiona snorted. " _Glorious_ , sure," sarcasm-laced words dripped as she rinsed off the bullet hole.

MacCready winced, though she couldn't tell it it was real and out of pain, or fake and in response to her comment. " _Ooooh_ , knock a guy down, will ya? Alright, Miss Crow's Feet - "

"That's strike two."

"What do I get on strike three?"

Fiona didn't answer and returned with a stimpack, quickly jamming it under the clavicle nearest the injury. Dogmeat made a pitiful sound. MacCready rubbed underneath her chin, turning to the Vault Hunter when she'd returned to her spot and pointing to her ankle. Fiona held it out with a groan.

"Don't get me wrong," he told her while gently removing her shoe and sock before rolling up her pant leg, "I'm freakin' out on the inside. This is the closest we've ever gotten to finding Nora in two years. It's actually _pointing_ to where she might've been taken - because this stinks of abduction, yeah?" Fiona's ankle was swollen and red, but not deformed. They lacked splints. All he could do was wrap it tightly with gauze and feed her some Med-X-spiked-Hydra. "It's been so long and a _lot_ of things could've happened to her. I'm really hoping there's a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow."

A thought presented itself to Fiona and, though she didn't shift uncomfortably or anything like that, her eyes averted themselves in shame of what crossed her mind. MacCready was observant, however, and caught on fast.

"She's basically my sister," he added, setting her belongings to the side. Fiona's demeanor brightened a little. Dogmeat crawled into his lap. MacCready started feeding her scraps again, watching the canine remorsefully. "Well, her hired gun really ... She took me on back in Goodneighbor and helped me settle some scores with the Gunners."

"You had beef with them?" Fiona asked, not surprised. "Those two assholes definitely knew who you were."

"I used to run with them." Okay, she wasn't expecting that. " _Used_ to. But they were ... unsavory. Shot at anything that moved if the caps were right. It wore on me after a while and I bolted. Started taking up some odd jobs - mercenary work, as you know - and two of 'em tried extorting me under threat of death, claiming I was 'hunting in their territory'. So, Nora and I did some hunting of our own." He didn't need to spell it out for her, but he did fire a finger gun twice with added sound effects. "After that I just kinda ... felt like I owed it to her to keep her safe. It was my job, and then she goes and disappears. That was _my_ responsibility. I was supposed to watch the boss' back."

"She sounds like she was pretty tough, Mac. I'm sure she's okay."

His worrisome expression told her he obviously felt otherwise. "If the Children of Atom have her, I seriously wonder about that ... "

That name again ... "Who are they?"

"A group of dumbas - ugh - _idiots_ that think the nuclear apocalypse was a sign from a god they call 'Atom'. They literally worship nukes. There was this city up in the Capital Wasteland called Megaton. Has a huge bomb in the middle of it that dropped but never detonated - never will, 'cause some guy came by many years ago and defused it, but the Children of Atom would gather around and pray to it. Buncha morons." He grumbled painfully because Fiona was using the gauze roll he'd found to cover and wrap his own injury. "They'll yap and yap about how, 'Atom is going to return and bestow the glow upon everybody,' or whatever. Up in D.C. they were harmless, something like monks. Here in the Commonwealth they're vicious as hell. If you don't believe in what they believe in, you're an enemy of their faith and need to die."

"So they just kinda spread out?" Fiona inquired, rinsing MacCready's blood off her hands. "No headquarters?"

" _Nooooo-ho-ho_ , they have one. But you need a damn good HAZMAT suit to get there. Their HQ's in a bomb crater to the south. I don't know _how_ they managed to survive in the Glowing Sea without becoming ghoulified. And they've got gamma guns ... "

"Gamma guns?"

"They blast you with radiation."

"Holy shit."

"With that much exposure, by all rights they should be dead." He eyed the Pip-Boy, tilting his head when he saw it'd been turned on. Fiona sheepishly rubbed the back of her scalp.

"Yeaaah, I got curious."

"Hell, I was gonna turn it on anyway," he chuckled, plucking it from her side. The aggravated grumble in his throat made it clear MacCready was not happy with what he was looking at. "Damn it, encryption ... I can't hack for crap, so uh ... " He didn't need to speak his thoughts for her to understand where his mind went. Until they got back to Vault 81 or bumped into Rhys, the hunt for Nora was going to be put on hold.

Wait. This hadn't originally been a hunt for -

"Goddammit," Fiona cursed and MacCready's head snapped her way. She wished she could stand and pace angrily. "The fucking Deathclaw egg. We forgot about it."

But the merc was calm. He slowly smiled. "Done."

"Done?" she repeated, perplexed.

MacCready reached for his coat and pulled a large mottled brown-and-black egg from one of its many pockets. "One of the guys outside had it. Must've not trusted these two dumbbells."

The thing wasn't much larger than a medium-sized book. "You'd think it'd be bigger, coming from something like Savage ... "

"The little ones that hatch are so small they're kinda cute," he admitted, smiling. He tucked it safely back where he'd gotten it from. "They're nothing like their adult counterparts. Then they grow up and get all gangly and toothy and clawy ... "

Fiona beamed. "So, do you have any baby pictures?"

"I - what?" One could smell smoke from the cogs straining to spin in his skull. Then he sneered. " _Oh-ho-ho_ , she's got jokes! I'll remember that when you're begging for your heart medication, Granny."

Fiona proudly held up three fingers. "And _that's_ the third strike."

He raised his hands in faint protest. "Oh no," his bargaining was dull and unconvincing, "please, don't, whatever you do ... Wait a sec, you _instigated_ that last one."

"It still counts," she cheekily replied, scooting closer to him. The way he fluttered her eyes made MacCready stop protesting immediately. His lips slipped into a sly smile.

"Okay, so what are you gonna _do_ 'bout it?" Her face loomed closer to his until their noses were touching. The merc was clearly not having any problems with this. Fiona's hand lifted to his chest, resting there as she drew her lips to his -

_PING!_

"AGHH! What the **hell**?!" MacCready sprung backwards with Dogmeat in tow, rubbing where her hand had been a second ago. Fiona held her hand up victoriously, several long brown chest hairs caught between her fingers.

"We've only known each other for three days, tiger," Fiona jeered with a grin and a wink. "What did you think I was gonna do, _seduce_ you?"

MacCready was nothing if not honest. "Well ... _yeah_ ... "

"Maybe later ... "

He puffed out his lower lip, pouting. "You're as evil as your sister."

"MacCready, I _taught_ my sister."

* * *

Laying naked on a couch in a tangle of giggles and kisses was a plethora of vulnerable and decidedly pleasant sensations neither of them had dreamed was going to become a reality. If they thought they were comfortable with each other beforehand, it was evolving to a whole new level now. Rhys used the word 'nirvana' to describe it, then promptly blamed MacCready for planting the word in his brain, with Sasha laughing as he explained his panic earlier that morning, the raiding of the coffee maker and the unusual heart-to-heart he and the mercenary had.

Their laughter gradually settled into nestling within each other's embrace, neither willing to move. Sasha pulled his robotic hand closer to her, tracing her fingers up the long metallic digits. The Atlas variant was much smoother than the black-and-yellow Hyperion arm he wielded beforehand. Rhys flexed his hands under her touch.

"What happened up there, Rhys? When Jack got loose," she asked, and felt him tense underneath her. She placated this by kissing his chest.

So he recounted everything to her - from the moment Jack forced him into uploading his AI into Helios to the near evisceration that almost took place when he tried to force an endoskeleton into Rhys' body - the very same one that Loader Bot toted back on Pandora. He talked about attacking Helios' power core to shake Jack's hold of the station, inadvertently venting several hundreds of innocent people into space and destroying the system keeping Helios from crashing into the planet below. Though Sasha could not see his face in the dark, Rhys' voice became so overladen with grief at the notion of forcibly becoming a mass murderer that she pulled her face to his and tried to kiss it away.

She wasn't sure if it worked or not, but Rhys demonstrated his appreciation of the attempt by pulling her closer and burying his head into her neck. He was quiet for a long while. When the silence broke, Rhys described the final confrontation with Handsome Jack at the crashed Helios site, the self-mutilation it took to finally break free of him, and how he crushed the last artifact that contained any trace of the self-proclaimed Hyperion 'hero'. When Rhys finally came to - having passed out from a combination of shock, blood loss, and pain - he found the deed for Atlas and made the painstakingly long walk back to the biodome, not knowing where else to go.

"I still don't know what to do with Atlas," thrummed Rhys as Sasha started planting kisses along his jawline. She could feel his mouth lift, finally, into a smile. "Maliwan, Dahl, Torgue, and Hyperion wound up becoming shield, gun, and grenade manufacturers and that always winds up leading to conflict and ... really, Pandora's got enough of that, don't you think?"

"A lot of people remember Atlas for the Crimson Lance," Sasha agreed, resting her head thoughtfully on his rising-and-falling chest. "It's got a long and bloody past. That's probably not the route you wanna go."

"But they made Gortys and a couple of nifty little gadgets and, uh ... well honestly I'd like to do something to make Pandora better." His words pricked at Sasha's ears. "Or ... uh ... crap, I dunno. There's a lot of stupid little ideas I've got. Maybe being on Earth will help me figure it out." He squeezed her, running a free hand through her air and speaking cheesily, "Enough about me, what about you?"

Sasha giggled. Another bad one-liner ... but when entertaining the question, she was left feeling a little lost. "I don't know," she mused quietly. "I've always been big on guns but that was mostly bred out of needing to survive. I'm definitely kicking the con-artist gig but ... I never really had crazy big aspirations. I used to ... watch Felix tinker with his inventions a lot when I was a kid, before I got real heavy into conning. So I dunno, that might be something?"

Rhys quirked his head to the side. "You could help me?"

"Mmmm, you just want to be around me all the time, is it?" she teased.

"That too," he crooned and tickled his fingers against her back for the sake of making her squeal. "But you can see things where I can't, and you're smart and brave and moral and beautiful and - "

"You've already won me over, Rhys," chuckled Sasha. "Keep _that_ up an we'll be inseparable."

He found her mouth with his own and whispered, "That's the plan."

She felt an intense heat rise to her face and bashfully snuggled into his chest for the umpteenth time. "I'm in. Does that mean I have to call you 'boss'?"

His whole body shuddered and he shook his head fervently as Sasha burst into a fit of good humor. "Oh, that was _weird_. Let's _never_ call me that again."

At some point or another they caved to the inexplicable chill that came with the Commonwealth's evening, donning their clothes and strutting aimlessly about the cabin. The rain and thunder never did let up and they surmised it as going to be until daybreak before the storm finally broke. Rhys dared to try the bed once more, this time going the extra mile to look for a sheet or something to throw over the dusty mattress. His efforts were rewarded upon discovering a thick blanket in the bedroom's closet, as well as a gray furball of a cat that appeared from nowhere to rub against his legs, scare the living shit out of him, and run away.

It was nice to flop down on an actual bed for the first time in several days. For the first fifteen minutes they stretched across it at all angles - Rhys finding that his legs very nearly extended over the mattress' edge - to get kinks out of their muscles and bones before curling up with one another. Sleep came easily, but it never stayed for long.

Throughout the night they both stirred to the sounds of wildlife calling back and forth to one another in the ongoing torrent and both felt uneasy slipping back off to dreamland. Only once did one of them burst awake from something other than what lingered outside, and that was Rhys, panting and sweating from a wretched nightmare that left his limbs shaking. Sasha made several attempts to sooth him, in the end lovingly crawling atop him to find another way to ease his tensions.

Making love to Rhys was unike any other experience she'd had with another man. He was ridiclously sensual, eliciting earthquake-level responses from every feathery caress his hands inflicted upon her body. And his endeavors grew bolder with each encounter they'd shared. Sasha was glad for the rip-roaring cacophony of thunder outside because it was impossible to restrain her vocalizations of pleasure - and Rhys, really, was no different.

He was tedious around Sasha's neck, commenting that Fiona would probably castrate him if she found out what they were up to. He wound up accidentally leaving a mark during their throes anyway and was sent into a dead panic while hunting for something to cover it up with. Sasha continued to jest with him about it throughout the night, amused at how much the thought of her angry older sister could terrify Rhys enough to jump out of his own skin and convince it to walk for him.

They found a scarf ... thing ... eventually and Rhys virtually collapsed with relief.

"Because it _totally_ won't be considered odd when I go to bed with it on, or come out of the shower with it on or - " The CEO squeaked into the mattress and Sasha guffawed, pouncing on him. "She'll understand. We're adults, dude."

"I'll try to remember that when she adds my Synth implant to her eyeball collection," he wept.

With predawn came the tapering of thunder, lightning, and wild animals. Sunlight and silence greeted them when morning came - or rather, it greeted Sasha. Rhys finally fell victim to three days' worth of disturbed sleep patterns and snored soundly. When he finally clambered off the mattress a little later, he found Sasha in the living room with nothing on but her underwear and his unbuttoned dress shirt and promptly carried her, squealing with laughter, back into the bedroom.

"How long has it _been_ for you?" Sasha jeered in the aftermath as Rhys rested his head on her chest, eyes closed with a smile curled wide over his facial features: a milk-fed feline resting in a sunbeam. Holding true to his growing reputation as the Black Cat, he almost _purred_ while she stroked his hair.

"You, uh, might've cut loose a few moths," came the somewhat shy reply. When she eyed at him with a raised brow, he added, "A few _dozen_."

By early afternoon they'd repacked and were on the move - though Sasha stopped first to kick the very dead Radscorpion. It was Rhys' idea to backtrack to Relay Tower 1DL-109 and hit up the radio, assuming that Fiona and MacCready might have made a detour because of the storm. His hypothesis was spot on.

 _"Mac got in touch with us sometime before midnight,"_ Deacon's voice rattled off to them. He sounded like he was just waking up. _"Savage did a roundabout to the outside of Boston so they'll be coming back from the opposite direction. So hey! Ma Summerset made some pie for you guys. Come on home."_

The very last word Deacon uttered took Rhys aback. He appeared dazed during their trek downhill and, when Sasha asked him what was wrong, he asked her, "Is it weird that I haven't really considered any place _home_ for a while?"

"Not really," she grinned as he roped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. "I'm right there with you."

"But you've got Pandora and Hollow Point."

"I was born on Pandora, but it never really felt like home to me."

His ears burned bright red. "So I just thought of a million cheesy things to say and one of them was, 'Home is where _you_ are.'"

"You are such a _nerd_." She poked his ribs playfully. "Look at you brimming with confidence. I could get used to this."

"I feel kinda like ... ," Rhys hesitated, using a free hand to scratch one of his blossoming cheeks. "Like ... everything's finally setting in place."

"It does." Sasha leaned into him, beaming. "Hey Rhys?"

"Mmm?"

"That whole 'home is where you are' thing? I feel that way too."

 _Bucket_ , damn it. **BUCKET**.

* * *

MacCready made it a point to have them sneak out of Boston instead of barging their way out. It made little sense, after all, to be exceptionally boisterous in dangerous territory considering the precious cargo they were hauling. He insisted she place the Deathclaw egg in the rucksack while he hefted Dogmeat over his shoulder. The canine was still too weak to walk, though she definitely appeared a little healthier than she had the day before.

At least now Fiona would be able to safeguard them, the Hydra having worked wonders on her twisted ankle ... but she wasn't so bold as to claim she could win a fight against several Super Mutants. There were tons of them out there patrolling the streets with mutated mutts that had jaws for faces. Every time they came upon their calling cards - hanging bags of mangled flesh strung upon old streetlamps or littering the broken pavement - MacCready and her made a detour.

There were other beasts that had to be dealt with. At least five ghouls went out of their way to stalk them and Fiona put them down with Roshambo's incendiary rounds. It was a real spectacle when one of them landed in a pool of gasoline. Some Radroaches crept out from under cars to annoy them with wing flaps and chomping mandibles, but all those insects needed to get sent to the grave was a heavy stomp. No Radroaches, no psycho robots, and no raiders ... although they stumbled upon a base or two and managed to avoid detection by quietly slipping around the searchlights and turrets.

All the ghostly maneuvering cost the an extra hour or two, but gradually they made their way out of the ruined city. Chestnut Hillock Reservoir wasn't as far from the city's outskirts as Fiona originally thought. In almost no time at all they were within sight of the Vault and Fluffy's cave.

"They must've taken shelter by the relay tower overnight," MacCready spoke. Fiona jerked her head up. Beyond the cave, approaching from the opposing direction, were two figures with arms wrapped tightly about each other. The merc grinned, plucking his beard. "Looks like he took my advice."

"Advice?" Fiona shot MacCready a glare. " _What_ advice?"

It was at this point he realized he might have spoken out of turn. Ah well, too late to turn back now ... "Your bro was a real mess the other night. Wanted to proclaim his love to Sasha and whatnot. I just gave him the nudge he needed." He felt her venom-riddled stare and countered with an innocent smile. "Oh _c'mon_ , they look **happy**."

She couldn't argue that. Fiona hadn't seen Sasha shining like that since they made their first real score together. It was a definite contrast to the darker aura she emanated when Rhys went AWOL. She sighed resignedly. "I _did_ kind of give him my blessing." Truthfully, she was just glad they were okay, though upon closer inspection they did seem a little scuffed up.

"Then be glad for 'em."

And she was. _Really_ , she was. But that didn't mean Rhys was out of the fire pit because Sasha never wore a scarf and the CEO's forehead was clearly forming nervous beads of sweat the longer Fiona stared at it. Sasha stepped in to save his hide before her sister could overreact to anything, giving Rhys a gentle squeeze and approaching Fiona with a conversational, "Soooo where did you guys wind up camping out?"

"That's one _hell_ of an afterglow, man," MacCready chuckled once Fiona was out of earshot. He clapped Rhys on the shoulder.

The taller man laughed anxiously. "Uh, well ... " His natural and artificial eye spied the weakened German Shepherd and gained all the attentiveness of a young child seeing his first dog. Rhys uttered a garbled coo and was scratching behind her ears in an instant. The dog panted happily in response, tail flapping with a little bit of life. "Aww, _puppy_. What happened to it?"

" _Her_ ," corrected MacCready. "Rhys, meet Dogmeat. Yes, that's her name and it's a long story so don't ask. This is Nora's pooch."

"Nora's?" Rhys looked from him to the dog quizzically. Hearing the name, Dogmeat whimpered, guilting the Atlas CEO into giving her several more scratches and rubs. "So wait, does that mean you found her?"

Defeated, the former Gunner shook his head. "Nah ... but this is _something_. I mean, we're closer to finding her now than we have been for the last two years. We actually found her old Pip-Boy, too. We're gonna need Nick or you to take a look at it once we get to the Vault, if you're cool with that. The thing's got some kind of encryption on it."

Rhys looked a little too excited. "A _Pip-Boy_? Hell yeah, I'll have a look."

" ... Do you even know what one _is_?"

"Nick gave me this Wasteland Survival Guide holodisk. It went into detail about them and everybody at 81's got one so ... yeah."

"Well," MacCready giggled, Dogmeat attacking his face with several cheerful licks, "let Nick have a look at it first. It's an honor thing, you know, because those two were tighter than any of us. If he doesn't have any luck we'll let you have a crack at it. Sound good?"

Rhys nodded. He jumped back several feet when the earth shook. Fluffy, alerted by the noise of several people within his territory and familiar scents, removed himself from the cave mouth. The massive Deathclaw leered in their direction, huffing deeply, and advanced eagerly ... but it was not towards Fiona and the egg as everybody might have suspected. Rather, the Alpha Male towered over Dogmeat, lowering his snout to touch the canine's muzzle tip.

"You remember her, don't ya?" MacCready whispered. Fluffy exhaled carbon forcefully into the dog's face. Dogmeat responded by tickling the reptilian snout with her very giddy tongue. "Yeah you do."

The three Pandorans all 'Awwww'-ed at the sight. "That's so fucking _cute_ ," crowed Fiona.

"Hey Fi." MacCready nodded towards the rucksack. Fiona didn't need him to specify what he was indicating.

"Right." She placed the brown bag on the ground and thrust painted fingertips into its depths, producing the egg that was way too small to belong to a Deathclaw. Catching it's smell, Fluffy pulled his cranium back, watching Fiona approach the nest and set it carefully down. The Alpha wasted no time in covering it with a thin layer of arid dirt. He settled next to it, supporting himself on his belly with a satisfied grunt. "He looks content ... "

"Savage should be making her way here once she notices the egg's scent isn't at the tunnel anymore," stated MacCready. "She's probably still PO'd and stomping around."

"Th-that sounds like a good enough reason to get back inside," stammered Rhys, visibly disturbed at the thought of an angry mother Deathclaw returning to her nest and finding several strangers standing way too close. His eyes happened to slip a glance at the stone he'd been slammed into at their first arrival and his skin turned pale.

Sasha grabbed his hand and winked reassuringly. "The sooner we get in, the sooner Dogmeat can get looked at. Besides, Deacon said there was pie." She wasn't going to admit it in front of everyone, but she was _starving_. Rhys wasn't the only one put off by decades-old boxed foods and those Mole Rat Chunks only went but so far.

MacCready perked considerably. " _Pie_? Like, **mutfruit** pie?"

"I ... guess? He didn't really say ... ?"

"Oh. My. God." He waved a free hand to Fluffy and hastily strode towards Vault 81.

"Mac, it's just _pie_ ," quipped Fiona, racing to catch up. Poor Dogmeat looked like she didn't know what the hell was going on.

" _You don't understand_. That pie is a masterpiece. It's like ... like an orgasm in your mouth."

Fiona and Sasha made disgusted noises at the resulting visual and Rhys slapped his forehead with a groan. "Appetite, gone."

* * *

MacCready demanded a doctor as soon as they walked in through the Vault's giant gear door. Forsythe and Carrington were both full of complaints, annoyed that they would have to perform medical tasks on an animal when they could be using the highly-demanded medicines on their human population instead ... up until they saw what animal _exactly_ they were treating. Dogmeat was whisked away like a VIP and the Pandorans had to wonder at the impact Nora must have had on the people here and everywhere else. Speaking her name was like announcing the presence of a deity. Granted, Desdemona and the others already explained her trials to them, but this level of dedication was ... surprising.

When Nick and Piper found out, they were on MacCready's heels, pestering him for information. The _Publick Occurrences_ reporter didn't linger for long. She asked a few choice questions and then disappeared to keep watch on the wounded pooch. Deacon popped up before any of the Vault officials did, listening almost tearfully as the mercenary answered each and every one of Valentine's queries.

"You should send word to the others," Nick told Deacon, his human voice's emotion betraying the metallic make of his body. "Hancock, Preston ... everybody. They're going to want to hear about it. Even if it's nothing. Even if it leads us to a dead end, they're going to want to know."

"Hancock was part of your crew, too?" Sasha found herself asking while Deacon's sunglass-wearing form slipped around the corner and down the hall.

"Crude as he was to you," Nick's words containing hints of dry humor, "that ghoul is the mayor of Goodneighbor and loyal to the core. He's a chem genius, if a bit stab-happy and grudging." He stared longingly at Fiona's rucksack, then placed a hand on Rhys' shoulder. "Nice work with that satellite, rookie."

"Hope you're ready to relinquish your throne, old man," the cyborg riposted.

"Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Miss Summerset was all-too happy to greet them at the Sunshine Diner, presenting them with exactly what Deacon promised and what MacCready praised. The mercenary hadn't lied one bit and carefully swindled the last slice when nobody was looking, only to have Fiona swipe it out from under his nose.

"I'll remember that," he threatened when she snapped up the very last spoonful, and she raspberried him.

Overseer McNamara and Desdemona were both at the table within the hour and MacCready unveiled the Pip-Boy for Nick's examination. The Synth detective ran metallic claws over the dirty-yellow computer, examining every nick and scratch with stark and sad attentiveness. "Nora was never really good at maintaining her equipment," he mulled sullenly.

"She made some awesome things," agreed MacCready, sipping a Nuka Cola. "But she could never be bothered with running some soap and water over 'em. It used to drive Codsworth up the wall, poor guy. The only thing I ever saw her really keep in good shape was that electric sword and the Silver Shroud outfit. So ... what do you think, Nick? Can you break it?"

"It's intricate," Valentine commented, tapping the screen. "Whoever put the code on - and honestly, it doesn't look like Nora's handiwork - didn't want the common raider to crack it." He hunched over the device and Rhys had to admit, the Synth wasn't lying when he called himself the Master Hacker for Earth. The robot's hands were quick as lightning, switching between screens and buttons at an obscene speed. "It's going to be tough. Give me a few minutes."

"What's the next step to finding her?" Fiona asked, surprisingly invested in the ordeal despite her wish to return back home. "You already said the Children of Atom live in that crater down south, right? Wouldn't that be the best bet?"

"Let's go by what's on the Pip-Boy first. They have a built-in GPS and if we're lucky, it'll have her last destination marked on there. _If_ we're lucky." Finally realizing what Fiona said, he blinked rapidly at her with mock surprise. "So wait, does this mean you're thinking of staying?"

"It's not like we can get off this rock anyway, Mac. Besides, maybe it'll lead us to ... whatever it is we're supposed to get to. Like maybe this is the reason we were sent here."

Sasha thought back to the littlest Siren and frowned to herself. She'd been really harsh to that child and an overwhelming sensation of guilt flooded her. "Maybe it'll lead us to that little girl somehow, but, ah ... " Her eyes drifted to something distant in the back of her mind. Rhys noticed this and bumped her affectionately on the shoulder, bringing her back to the with a smile.

"Whatever help you need," he found himself telling MacCready and Nick, suddenly interested in his own fidgeting hands and the burning sensation of his ears as Sasha leaned her chin on his arm. Fiona looked like she wanted to say anything, but decided against it with a sharp look from MacCready. "You've kind done everything to help us, so ... uh ... Atlas is on the case?"

"Lead the way, _boss_." Sasha laughed at his shivering reaction to the title.

"Wait, boss?" Fiona looked between them, watching Rhys become increasingly unsettled.

" _Partner_ ," Rhys corrected firmly, his raging blush distracting from whatever serious vocalization he was attempting to make.

"I'm gonna help him out with Atlas. Don't give me that look." Sasha challenged Fiona's scornful growl with an assertive glower of her own. "I don't want to con anymore. And you'll be doing your Vault Hunting so ... it'll give me a chance to figure out who I am, grow a little. i used to watch ... Felix ... when he'd make some inventions. It might be something I can get into."

There was clearly no arguing there. And working for Atlas was considerably safer than becoming a Vault Hunter. Still ... "Don't get her dragged into some crazy scheme, Rhys," she warned with a dangerous edge to her voice. "That whole Handsome Jack fiasco almost got us killed. If you let her get hurt - "

She was astonished as the awkwardness vanished from his expression, his eyes locking unwaveringly with her's. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said resolutely.

"He saved me from a giant scorpion yesterday," Sasha bleated, rubbing her neck and recalling how much coming that close to death had bothered her. "It came out of nowhere."

"WHOAH, wait, a Giant Radscorpion?" MacCready blurted out, wide-eyed focusing on Rhys. "Those are right up there with Deathclaws, man. How'd you drop it without a gun?"

Rhys was modest if nothing else, contritely smiling. "I, ah, pushed a Nuka Cola machine on it."

"Crunchified," Sasha elaborated, bringing the crimson back to Rhys' cheeks by boasting his heroics.

"Resourceful," MacCready nodded his approval and Fiona sat back, awestruck. "Impressive."

"I'm sold," Fiona had to relinquish her pride as the protective older sister. Maybe Rhys wasn't such a bad choice for Sasha. That glint that sparked in his eyes at the notion of her being in dangerous spoke several thousand emotions that couldn't be placed into words.

Piper returned with good news from Doctor Forsythe. "Dogmeat'll be fine," she announced with a chipper voice and a spring to her step. "She's malnourished and has a few broken bones, but you guys found her in the nick of time and those stimpacks you gave really helped. It'll take a while for her to be up and running like she used to."

"She might be able to sniff Nora out when she recovers. It worked when we were looking for Kellogg." Nick's hand skimmed across a few more buttons. He tapped the last one with triumphant gusto. "And I'm in." They all looked over his shoulder as the Pip-Boy's screen became clear. There were several categories on the top. "These things are useful for cataloging your inventory, storing information and recording map locations. And ... see, she still had Buzzkill equipped." He chortled. "And the Silver Shroud outfit."

"What's 'Buzzkill'?" Sasha asked.

"A serrated Chinese military sword she found. Nora modified it with a battery so it had an electrical charge. She _really_ favored electricity ... and the sword. I rarely saw her use a gun, not that she needed it. I've _never_ seen anybody manhandle a Yao Guai at close quarters with a sword before."

"She thought it made her look more like a proper general," MacCready chimed in. He pointed his forefinger to Sasha. "I kinda forced her into learning to use a sniper rifle and she modded the hell out of that thing, too. Nicknamed it 'Ghost'. If yer really gonna get into tinkering, she's probably gonna be the one you'll want to learn from."

Sasha noted that. She pointed to another menu title. "What's this?"

Nick scrolled to 'Radio' and selected the Diamond City broadcast. A soft tune began to play.

_"I don't want to set the world on fire,_   
_I just want to start a flame in your heart._   
_In my heart I have but one desire,_   
_And that one is you, no other will do."_

"It can pick up radio signals," butted in Piper. "Let me tell you how interesting it is to be crawling through a Mirelurk-infested drainpipe with Frank Sinatra as your backdrop."

Fiona and Sasha began humming the tune. Rhys pointed to something else. "How about 'Data'?"

"It will record holotapes and documents." Nick flipped it over and stopped dead in his tracks, staring hard at the screen. "Well, that's unusual."

_"I've lost all ambition_   
_For worldly acclaim._   
_I just want to be the one you love."_

MacCready leaned so far over Nick's shoulder he was practically laying on him. "What is it?"

"That's an unusual name for a file ... " It was a series of numbers and letters. Nick was hesitant as he scrolled down to the document labeled 'A7868DNA490' ...

_"And with your admission_   
_That you feel the same - "_

... and opened it.

The screen fizzled and went blank, the radio station distorting so badly that one might think it was playing a record backwards in slow motion. The Vault suddenly darkened and went completely silent. Nick's head dropped, unconscious, onto the table and Rhys recoiled, his hand flying to his head port as he lost balance and hit the ground hard. A flurry of activity surrounded them - from surprised hollers down the hall to the clattering of metal as several Mister Handies broken down wherever they were floating. MacCready and Piper went to try and revive Nick Valentine.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Desdemona snapped. Deacon was on the scene, slipping past her to assist with Nick.

Sasha and Fiona both helped Rhys back to his feet. The eyelid around his now non-glowing Synth eye was fluttering and his robotic arm hung limply. "It looks like an EMP," Fiona guessed, remembering Rhys' reaction when they unleashed one on him during the Vault Key deal.

"Not this crap again," grumbled Rhys, hissing at the burning sensation in his head and the throbbing that accompanied it. "I can't see out of my ... no wait ... There it goes." The yellow glow returned to his artificial ocular, steel fingers began to twitch. Around them, the lights blinked back on one-by-one. Robots came out of stasis and Nick, groaning, returned slowly to consciousness.

"My first nap ever," he murmured, "and I never want another one."

Diamond City's broadcast slowly returned, the sultry voice resuming his pre-recorded singing.

_" - I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of,_   
_Believe me."_

Piper's shaking fingers found the Pip-Boy. Her eyes widened and she pointed to it while calling, "Hey guys ... "

On the screen was a single blinking line: 'WITH REGARDS FROM ATOM.'

And below it: 00:30:00.

_"I don't want to set the world on fire ... "_


	10. Fallout

_"It's all over but the crying - "_

Rhys flipped the radio off.

Alarms began to sound in slow, steady, annoying _whooooooop whoooooooop whoooooooop_ -s. A number of adults from different sections of the Vault filed past them. Overseer McNamara stood alarmed as one of the many technicians strode towards her in a too-quickly-to-be-good fashion.

"Ma'am, there's a leak in the reactor," he announced, voice shaking. "It wasn't there before. It just .. it just triggered. We can't find the tear. It's spewing radiation - we evacuated everybody from the secondary Vault."

"So seal it off," ordered the Overseer.

"That's the thing. Every door's _jammed_ open."

With Nick slowly coming to, all eyes turned to Rhys - but he was already fiddling with a terminal, hand pressed against the temple port, before anybody could ask him. The screen remained unresponsive and his palmar hologram rewarded them with nothing but white noise and a glaring red 'ERROR'. "No go. The circuits must've fried."

"It won't take long for that radiation to start seeping into the whole Vault, Gwen," Deacon interrupted. "We're gonna have to get everybody outta here before they start glowing."

" _Hello_ , did everybody forget the countdown?" Piper gesticulated to the Pip-Boy with its timer gradually slipping below the thirty minute mark. Panic escalated her voice, bringing her thick Boston accent to light. "We don't know what'll happen when it runs out. So can we get the hell outta here?"

A doctor cradling Dogmeat removed herself from the infirmary, followed closely by Carrington and Forsythe who looked like they'd packed their whole lab away in giant duffel bags.

MacCready was on his feet with a sense of urgency, skirting down the hall like his pants were on fire. "I'll get the kids!"

"I'll clear out the second floor," Sasha declared. She slipped past them, brushing hands and meeting eyes with Rhys by way of saying, 'I won't be long,' before skipping up the stairs. Fiona was right behind her, ascending one staircase more.

"I got the top floor!"

Deacon didn't dwaddle either. "Let me radio the nearby settlements," he told them. "Get 'em to evacuate. We don't know how far the radiation'll travel." He looked like he wanted to add something witty, but a quick glance at the timer cancelled out that idea.

Valentine was still in no condition to stand. Piper thrust herself under his right shoulder, struggling under the weight of steel. "Rhys, lend me an arm will ya?"

He complied, lifting with his own metal limb and huffing all the way. "You need to lay off that 40w-50 oil, bud," he quipped between breaths, deftly slipping the Pip-Boy around his wrist as they moved.

"I save the lighter stuff for my summer beach body," sniped Nick sarcastically.

" _Ha_ \- get that tanned leather look, huh?"

"Let's get to the entrance," McNamara lead them. "We'll take the emergency stairs. The elevator's probably out, too - _shit_ , the Pip-Boy - "

A series of rapid clicks emanated from the device. Rhys confirmed the handheld Geiger's reading by glimpsing the numbers being displayed in his vision. RADS +2. " **Hey guys, hurry it up! We've got radiation!** "

" _GLOW BIG OR GO HOME_!"

Desdemona growled. "Damn it, Deacon - "

Sasha, MacCready, and Fiona joined them by the time they'd gotten to the top floor, each followed by a group of three to five people. By that point Nick was able to walk on his own. Deacon was hot on their trail, power-walking past with a, "Sent the warning out. Now hey, I like a leisurely stroll through radioactive decay as much as anybody else, but I like my _human_ complexion better than a Ghoul one. Let's get a move on, ladies!"

They broke into a sprint as the RADS measurement gained another number. McNamara was right - the elevator wasn't functioning. They took the stairs two steps at a time -

\- and joined another crowd that had already formed in front of the gear door. Several pairs of hands were feebly trying to pull it open. The guards gathered around the switchboard, screaming at one another while taking turns attempting to work it.

"It's not responding!" one of them cried as McNamara came into view. He was a breath away from bursting into tears. "It's not responding!"

Rhys shimmied between the crowd. "Tin man!" he called as he vanished beyond the crowd, slipping between them like the twig he was.

"I resemble that remark."

Valentine didn't need to be explained to, he just _acted_. Sasha was impressed by their unspoken dialogue. Nick pushed aside the guards. He tapped a few buttons and then ripped the control panel off to expose the wiring beneath. Ahead of them, the Vault door's heckling crowd backed away to give Rhys room. He was kneeling in front of it with a silver hand extended.

Sparks flew between Nick's dangerous digits after several minutes. He whistled harshly across the room. Rhys responded with a thumbs up, the hologram falling victim to his flying fleshy hand. The CEO stood and took several loping steps back. "Open ... ," he finished with an exaggerated swing of his arm and an all-too cocky grin, "sesame!"

The Vault door groaned to life -

"Blessed are the meek," recited Valentine smugly, "for they shall inherit the earth."

\- and screeched to a standstill with only a six inch gap permitting them sight of the outside cave. Rhys' jaw dropped.

"You're _kidding_!" Silver fingers opened again but his hologram revealed only a fuzzy white screen. He tapped it a little too fervently. " _No no no no_ \- "

Nick tried on his end again. The podium exploded into flames. "Son of a - "

The Pip-Boy, which had remained silent once they'd gotten up the stairs, began clicking frantically, accompanied by growing grim expressions on both Nick and Rhys' faces. Vault 81's downstairs facilities must have been completely irradiated. Now it was working its way up the elevator shaft and stairs.

"How screwed are we?" Sasha pressed her way to stand by Piper and Fiona, both of whom looked terrified. She wasn't ashamed to admit her own heart was hammering.

Several dwellers, guards included, launched into hysterics, holding family members and friends tight. Neither of the techs were giving up - with Nick smacking out the fire and Rhys digging for the door's hydraulic system - but it was becoming very clear very fast that they weren't going to be getting anywhere soon enough.

"Pretty screwed," MacCready uttered a delayed response, arriving behind them. Despite his troubled eyes, he managed a smirk and a coy, "Hey Fi, since we're gonna die - "

A loud rumble overcame the terrified din inside the Vault. Several didn't notice it at first but those who did fell silent. When it struck a second time, it was accompanied by the quaking of earth and all those who had not paid attention before were certainly doing so now. There was something at the door. Something big. Something loud. Something with very long claws ... claws that poked through the door's miniscule gap. A second set of elongated digits appeared along the top and both of them gripped down on the gear-shaped entrance hard.

Most of the dwellers were shrieking, running back to the stairs and stopping upon realizing the futility of fleeing. Rhys, caught in the midst of scampering feet, was almost trampled in the process. He flung himself against the wall and tucked tightly against it.

Deep, resonating grunts became paired with another as two more gatherings of claws found their way to the Vault door's edge. They were huge and long and thick and could only possibly belong to one - no - _two_ things. And they were working in unison, the combined effort pushing the entrance-sealing slab of steel inwards until three-quarters of their lanky limbs and milky white orbs could be observed.

"That's Fluffy!" MacCready shouted. He grabbed Fiona's arm and screamed, "Everybody, go!"

Hesitating legs and nervous glances made sense as several considered which would be a worse fate - facing a Deathclaw or remaining inside to die of radiation poisoning? A great deal of the Vault Dwellers never knew Fluffy intimately, assuming dismemberment would accompany their short exposure to the outside world. But when MacCready and Fiona passed through the widened gap created for them by the walking tank, and did so without being followed by bloodcurdling screams or the sounds of shredding viscera, common sense dictated what had to be done.

Sasha followed them, sticking close to Piper and Nick. Nausea gripped her halfway across and she stumbled over her own feet. Several others were collapsing around her, overcome with accumulated radiation running through their body and helped along by friends and strangers who noticed their plight. So, too, was Sasha aided when Rhys found her through the crowd and pulled her along.

"You're making a habit of saving me, tech boy," mumbled Sasha. All this movement was making her want to puke. "That's supposed to be my job."

"It's a nice turnaround," he teased, ushering her past the door. "Besides, _ghoul_ friend would have a weird ring to it, won't it?"

Sasha laughed weakly, denied the ability to compliment his corniness by the restrained urge to spew.

It wasn't just Fluffy that came to their rescue. A familiar broken horn and sneering fangs greeted them on the other side. By some miracle, Savage hadn't launched into an outright attack. MacCready would muse later about how the Deathclaw mates acted on the agreement of 'you scratch my back, I scratch your's', grateful for the return of yet another egg. For now, the flurry of movement was enough to keep anybody from thinking too hard about it.

While the Geiger counter silenced once they were outside, it wouldn't remain quiet for long. Plumes of radiation would seep out of the Vault entrance shortly. Fluffy and his mate didn't stick around either. Their thick, menacing bodies lumbered back from whence they came, leaving an astonished group of Vault Dwellers (and several cheering children going on about how 'cool' the scene was) to stand in awe. A flooding relief encompassed the large group. They would have to keep moving, but for now they were taking a quick breather. The Commonwealth's early evening breeze had never felt so good.

"Looks like they got the warning," Deacon said to nobody in particular. A series of siren whines could be heard from all around them at different intensities. "Just listen to that sweet, sweet orchestra of complete panic."

Piper indicated the Pip-Boy with concern and Rhys looked down at it. The timer was still counting down with only ten minutes to spare. "Do you think it was just counting down how long it'd take for the Vault to get irradiated?"

But Nick's glowing eyes focused on the reservoir ahead of them and a hushed, dour silence settled over them. "I wish," he said darkly, "that was all it was."

It definitely hadn't been there before.

Perhaps it had been lurking underneath the murky waters the whole time. Perhaps something in the Pip-Boy triggered the platform it sat on to rise to the surface. But there it was, standing about ten feet high in the middle of the reservoir, dripping water and aquatic weeds: a very large, very intimidating, and very _active_ fission bomb. Red lights blinked along its base and tip, strobing a glare of crimson against the lake, the ground, and their faces.

Several crab-like creatures emerged along the shoreline, scuttling into the distance. If they knew what was coming - and it certainly appeared that they did - they wanted no part of it.

Hushed murmurs escaped ragged breaths and shaking lips.

"That's - that's - "

"We're done. We're so _done_."

"We're gonna ... "

Fiona stared beyond their fenced-in perimeter. "Okay, so it's a _bomb_ ," she stated, annoyed with how easily everybody around her was surrendering hope. "Why don't we just make a run for it?"

"We've got nine-and-a-half minutes," Rhys tapped the Pip-Boy's screen. Sasha slid from his grasp, staggering forward to get a better look. "That's enough time for us to book into a cave or something, right?"

"We just got chased out of the only place we can take shelter in," Nick calmly stated. They could always try Fluffy's den, but the Matriarch would not be as innocuous as she had been several moments before. "And it's ... "

"It's bigger than Megaton's bomb." MacCready's voice was like his face - oddly neutral. It was both disheartening and uncharacteristic. Fiona hated it.

Deacon's attempt at humor with, "Well, size isn't _everything_ , right?" was ineffective.

"That's gotta be at least five megatons, numbnuts. We'll never be able to outrun that."

But Fiona was moving downhill with a determined gait. "We didn't get this goddamned far to die now," she bit with venom. "Rhys?"

He was neither willing to argue or surrender, pulling a woozy Sasha along by the waist and carefully, but quickly, tailing the Vault Hunter. MacCready was behind them hastily, followed by Deacon, Piper, Nick, and the rest of the Vault. "I don't know where the _fuck_ we can go - " Desdemona began.

Rhys surprised even himself by cutting her off, picking up a confident albeit uncertain tone. "Well hey, if we're lucky something'll just kinda pop up and - "

A bright red flash illuminated the darkening sky to their south. Flaming wings descended to the ground with something large and rotund, barely discernible at their current distance. But there was a definite thrum of an engine, the spinning of tires on dirt ...

... and a voice emanating from the Pip-Boy, coming in fuzzy at first but becoming more clear the closer the object got.

_"Hey Rhys, we got your signal and we're heading your way. Can you copy?"_

Sasha straightened. Fiona and MacCready were both looming over the cyberman's shoulders as he fumbled with the buttons. "That sounds like - "

" - Vaughn?" Fiona finished for him, pointed a painted fingernail at the radio station transmitting to them: 'CARAV. SCOOTER SPEC.' "Holy _**fuck**_ is that _**Vaughn**_?!"

Sasha raised a brow, carefully asking, "What signal?" while trying hard to keep the mutfruit pie down.

"I dunno - HEY VAUGHN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" He was tapping the screen again, momentarily forgetting that it was neither Hyperion or Atlas tech and didn't have a touch screen.

MacCready flinched away from his raised voice pitching directly into his ear. "Motherf - _urgh_!"

"You can't transmit from Pip-Boys, only receive!" Nick yelled to him.

Fiona was blasting down the hill, raising her arms frantically in the air. "Over here!"

\- _"We've been trying to get in contact with you but it's kinda hard break through all the interference - oh crap I think I just ran over a dog!"_ -

"Are these friends of yours?" asked Nick, picking up the pace and keeping stride with Rhys.

He didn't answer at first, only nodding and trying to move quicker. Sasha was weaving and wobbling too much so he was left with only one solution. "Sooo I'm gonna pick you up, don't stab me?"

She would have giggled as he swept her off her feet if not for their situation ... or for her churning stomach. Sasha groaned, lulling her head to the side. "Crap, Rhys - "

That intensely troubled-slash-fearful look on his face would have made her bust a gut if it wasn't already wanting to bust. " _Pleeaaase_ don't hurl on me."

Her cheeks puffed out. "No promises ... "

"He's a friend - yeah," gasped Rhys between jogs and breaths, "from Pandora - and a caravan - big and roomy - dunno how they - got here - "

"Is it big enough for everybody?" That was McNamara, trailing alongside the larger section of their group: the dwellers.

"Oh yeah - !" He thought so. He really _hoped_ so.

Fiona was way ahead of them, MacCready bursting behind her until they fell in step with one another. Rhys and the others didn't catch up until those two slowed down, and that was only because the caravan was getting close enough to see both the ridiculous artistic details on the caravan's hull and the face of the driver - a formerly bespectacled man who now sported a thick beard and, as always, insane muscles.

It was a strange vehicle with a strange paint job and strange people within and without. Vaughn was not alone. Two women were perched on top, both with unnaturally-colored hair - one blue and one red. It was safe to assume there were more inside. While Fiona, Rhys, and Sasha rushed for it, the others held back for only a moment to register the scene. None of them had ever seen a functioning vehicle like this, having only been acquainted with vertibirds and the Prydwen when it still flew. It was nothing like the nuclear-powered cars of yesteryear, nothing like the crashed jets littering the landscape ... and yet, here it was, having appeared out of thin air and revved, raring to go.

Vaughn pulled up alongside them and Rhys was shouting with his head shaking from side-to-side. "Don't cut off the engine!"

The driver complied. He pushed open a front window, no stranger to their urgency-painted expressions and responding in kind. "What's going on?"

"Is there enough room?" Fiona pitched, gesturing to the group filing in behind her. Vaughn stared at them, looked behind him, and then nodded to the Vault Hunter.

Athena opened the caravan door, leaning out and flagging them in. She looked angry, but then again she always looked angry. "No time for introductions?"

"Nope." Fiona jumped up the stairs and they grabbed shoulders as she entered. MacCready cautiously followed, helping Rhys with an almost listless Sasha. "I thought this was, you know, stuck in a roof?"

"We had a little bit of help."

Sasha gazed blearily about the vehicle's room. There were at least four others present aside from Athena, Vaughn, and the two up top. Zer0 lurked silently in the corner - she was sure Rhys would be gushing if he wasn't currently sidetracked - and Janey zipped to assist the Vault Dwellers getting inside, many of them coping with radiation victims who were worse off then Sasha. The other two ... she couldn't place, but Fiona stiffened at the sight of them and they did the same. One was nothing but muscle and scar, the other lankier with red clothing and gangly hair.

"No LB?" asked a disappointed-sounding Rhys, carefully setting Sasha down on the sofa. She groaned and leaned forward, holding her stomach.

"He's with Gortys helping Cassius work on a way to get us back." Vaughn was scrolling over everybody entering with wide and concerned eyes, a particular anxiety lighting them up when he saw Sasha and the others like her. "What happened?"

"Radiation poisoning." Nick tapped the Pip-Boy and Rhys began to sweat. Three minutes. "Hey Vaughn? We'll explain later, but get us the _hell_ outta here, okay bro?"

The last dweller entered. Athena slammed the door behind them. Every inch of the caravan was packed now with very little room to move, let alone breath. Most of the couch and floor space was taken up by the sick, so Fiona, Rhys, and the others were left to stand, holding onto the walls or nothing at all. Sasha swallowed hard. _This is gonna be a rough ride if we turbo boost ..._

The Children of Helios leader was resigned to acceptance. After nearly eight months on Pandora and countless life-or-death struggles to back up their lackluster, spur-of-the-moment decisions, he didn't question Rhys' request. "Already on it, bro." The two grinned, fist-bumping through the air. Fiona groaned her protest.

"Oh for the love of - "

MacCready's voice was loud and demanding. "LET'S FLY!"

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have said that.

The two women up top climbed down through the roof hatch. Vaughn launched the turbo boost while Janey yipped and yee-hawed. Rhys and Fiona were hollering together, " **HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!** "

Nobody was nearly as jovial as Janey. Bodies went skidding across the floor, fingertips scrambling for a foothold somewhere. The Vault Hunters pitched in their aid, grabbing what limbs they could while trying not to fall victim to the slips and slides themselves. Mordecai went down and a rough bump sent Rhys soaring. Nick caught him by the ankle, himself grabbing onto the bolted-down table.

He was _not_ liking anti-gravity right now. It was surprising to see nobody hurling. They were probably too terrified to remember they were queasy. "Don't nukes like that shoot off their own EMPs?!" he screamed over the tumult.

"Not if we get far enough away!"

00:01:56.

"Distance won't be a problem! We're already two miles out!" He turned his head, more words forming on the tip of his tongue -

Damn it, Vaughn. He _had_ to look away. He had to look and not see the Yao Guai running in front of them.

The collision made them airborne, for a few seconds giving everybody the chance to experience zero-g. There was a glimmer of hope that the caravan would land right-side-up and they would be zipping right along their own merry way. But then it twisted in mid-air and smashed onto its side, knocking loose one turbo booster that blasted off somewhere while the other, still full of juice, kept running at full-throttle, spinning them in circles until the boost died ... along with the engine.

They'd landed so that the front windows were facing the Vault and the bomb. Groans of pain and cries of fear blanketed the inside with a dense sensation of misery and the twitches of limbs twisted and tangled together. MacCready was faintly aware of the taste of blood in his mouth, moving through the haze to dig a cursing and bloody Fiona out from a throng of dwellers. Nick and Piper, who had somehow managed to escape unscathed, rooted through everybody, pulling them apart and checking wounds. Sasha, despite her unease and light-headiness, crawled onto the wall which was now beneath them to pull a near-catatonic Rhys her way. He grumbled incoherently while slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows.

The Pip-Boy was blinking, the numbers turning red. 00:00:30.

"We're really not far away," whispered an all-too serious Deacon who was in the process of removing a woman's foot from his face. "Not from a 5 megaton. We'll be cooked alive."

"We might make it," somebody else was saying. "Stranger things've happened."

Vaughn had been tossed from the driver's seat to near where Sasha aided Rhys. He moaned, rubbing his arm. "I'm sorry bro, I should've - "

"It's cool ... " Rhys was seeing double. He touched a finger to his head port and drew it back red. "Ow."

"What about the Courier Chip?" That was Desdemona.

Her theory was countered. "The relay hasn't worked since the Institute died."

"Maybe Lilith can - " began Brick, speaking for the first time. But Mordecai cut him off with a shake of his head. The Siren was amongst the heap, unconscious with her blue-haired counterpart. "Well shit. This was a short ass trip."

"At least we'll go out with a bang."

00:00:11.

"Everybody," McNamara's voice rose above the choir of pain, "look away from the windows when it goes off. The flash'll blind you."

"But the explosion will kill us anyway," hissed Doctor Carrington. Dogmeat whimpered somewhere nearby him.

"Don't talk like that, we can pull through this - "

It came with a glare of white light. As instructed, most people averted their eyes. A few who didn't were shrieking as their retinas burned out. When the unbearable glare vanished, gazes turned upon the windows. A bright, monstrous, fiery red mushroom sprouted from Chestnut Hillock Reservoir, throwing waves violently hither and thither. Rocks and grass were ripped asunder, uprooting and flinging like projectiles as a wave of heat and power blasted outwards impossibly fast. It was slipping towards them, ripping through everything it touched. A trader brahmin and its owner attempting to flee the disaster were caught in its path, the meat searing from their bones almost instantaneously.

And that very firestorm shockwave was blitzing their way. There was no way they could ... could ...

Sasha felt her heart drop as imminent death and destruction raged towards them. She pulled Rhys to her, kissed his lips and said, "I love ... "

But her vision went white first. She fell backwards. Rhys was upon her, shaking her shoulders in frantic fervor. " _Sash! Sasha!_ "

Nick wasn't distant from them, but he sounded so far away. "While the angels, all pallid and wan," he read to himself from old memory banks, "uprising, unveiling, affirm ... that the play is the tragedy, 'Man,' and its hero, the Conqueror Worm."

Somewhere close to her head came a strong and steady voice, probably reverberating from that Pip-Boy. _Haa ... is he still playing that radio station? I thought he turned it off ..._

_**"Elder Danse, initiating return relay of CARAV. SCOOTER SPEC.!"** _

A cacophony of cries erupted around her, and Sasha was grateful she didn't have to feel the pain.


	11. Burning Steel

The first thing Sasha noticed was that the world was impossibly bright. White-washed walls, a clean and crisp interior, a smell that came close to natural with hints of running water and grass, the feel of something so soft and cushiony beneath her ... she was so certain she'd died and gone to Heaven that her heart clenched tightly and her mouth set into a grim frown.

But as the seconds passed and her senses slowly returned to her, her ears picked up on different noises that shouldn't belong in the afterlife: a buzzing computer; doors whirring open and shut; hushed whispers engaged in conversation; deep, loud snoring. Sasha shifted her shoulders and discovered a blanket covering her. She attempted to remove and found that it was caught underneath something. Roving her gaze to search out the cause, it wasn't hard to see the sharp contrast of a black suit against all the pearlescent whites and blues. Rhys was nestled in a chair beside her and was currently wading in dreamland with his arms folded beneath his head and a steady stream of drool wetting her bed sheets. His suit was a mess and so was his hair, damp and matted from the ice bag atop his skull.

Sasha blinked several times. Was he dead too? That shockwave rolled through so powerfully. Had it extinguished all life on the caravan? Because looking around the room more attentively, she saw others. There was Vaughn, conversing with Athena and Fiona. Janey was leaning against a massive window with her arms crossed. She was the first to notice Sasha's wandering stare and smiled brightly. That friendly expression looked fierce with all those many scars pocketmarking her features.

"Well, lookit who's awake!" She was striding towards the bed, boots _thump_ ing heavily against the tiled floor. Fiona beat her to it, dismissing the chat she was engrossed in and practically racing to Sasha's side.

"How're you feeling?" she asked, grabbing her darker-toned sister's hand. Sasha looked down on it, noticing the medical tape and dressing in the curve of her arm. Rhys and Fiona both had one, their sleeves rolled up above them. "Still woozy?"

"A lot ... better, actually." Her answer surprised her. The sleepy, sickly feeling was completely gone. Somersaults no longer took hold of her stomach which she now noticed was growling. "A little hungry actually ... Where are we? How _aren't_ we dead?"

"MacCready said it's the Institute." The mercenary wasn't in the room with them. None of their companions from Earth were. It was just them, the Pandorans. "We got teleported here with that fucking shockwave about to burn hair off. _Apparently_ the Brotherhood of Steel took it over some time after Nora ghosted. I dunno the specifics. Mac and the others got hauled off to have a meeting with the Elder guy."

Vaughn slipped to the bed's opposite side and bent down to hug her. "It's good to see you're okay," came his genuinely happy words. Of their entire group, Vaughn was the closest to a pacifist - which suited him, considering the Children of Helios' dislike of violence - and was also extremely huggable. "You looked like _crap_ when we got here. Or, ahaaa, we all kinda looked like crap didn't we?"

"They treated everybody from the Vault for radiation poisoning and whatever bumps they got from the wreck - "

"You keep saying that word and it keeps confusing the hell out of me," uttered Athena, looking uncomfortable in their pristine environment. Sasha couldn't blame her. It looked too Hyperion-esque with hints of Atlas in the mix. It explained why Vaughn looked a little too at home and Rhys was completely zonked out despite their talking. They'd spent most of their life in a place like this. It was a comfort zone. "Vault, Vault, Vault. It's giving me a trigger finger." Janey placed a hand on her shoulder and Athena looked down with disapointment.

"Right? It got me, too," grinned Fiona. She gestured to the bandage on the bend of her arm. "So yeah, we all got treated. They only had, like, three cots in the infirmary so they drugged us with RadAway and moved us to these rooms. There's a _bunch_ of 'em. This place is a freaking hotel with labs n' shit. And freeze-dried food. All high-tech bullshit." She picked a cup from the bedside table and spooned something gelatinous into her mouth. "Got one for you too. You know they've got bacon flavored pudding?"

Sasha grabbed her own cup and had to agree that it tasted authentic. Her stomach grumbled happily. "But you all didn't get irradiated, did you?"

"We picked up the same dose you did. It just didn't really kick in until we got here. Everybody else was collapsing all over the place."

Janey was laughing. "You missed one helluva show, though. An' you were the _star_!"

Perplexion took center-stage. "Show?"

"You totally hurled all over one of th' docs."

Ohhhhh, the guilt. Fiona snorted on her pudding-bacon. " _Nailed_ Carrington on the way in. He was _pissed_. And who'd-a-thunk Rhys was a sympathetic puker along with, like, seventy-percent of Vault 81?"

"Oh _god_ ," Sasha grimaced, holding her head.

"Two words: _The Exorcist_."

" _Oh_ _ **god**_."

"The BoS was _not_ happy," guffawed Fiona. "It was _epic_."

A scoff came from Rhys' mouth. "Pfft, for you, maybe ... " His Synth eye was partially opened. Sasha touched his cheek and he purred.

"It was hilarious, you know it." The newbie Vault Hunter stuck a spoonful of bacon-pudding under his nose. "Come on, _you know you want some_."

"Noooo - " The Atlas CEO immediately turned about five shades of green and scrambled out of the chair, stumbled across the room, and bumped into the bathroom door three times before fumbling with the knob and closing it behind him.

Athena cut loose a pained hiss. "I'm all about laughing at everybody else's expense, but don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

Fiona was all innocence. "What? He'll be fine. Still gettin' over being sick is all."

"I'm pretty sure," Vaughn shook his head, "that concussion you gave him isn't doing him any favors."

"Yeesh, at least I gave him an _ice pack_. I mean I felt _kinda_ bad about it ... "

"Concussion?" Sasha stared down her sister. "Fi ... "

She returned her glare with a more powerful one. " _Sash_ ," she growled, then pointed to her neck and nodded to Sasha, who felt her throat. The scarf was gone.

"Oh," she uttered somberly. " _Oh_."

" _Yeah_ 'oh'. They checked your neck for injuries because of the caravan wreck an' all and found _that_ beauty. Rhys actually thought cowering behind MacCready was gonna save him and _MacCready_ thought he'd be able to stop _me_."

"MacCready wound up with a black eye," Janey told her. Her lips curved upwards and she chortled. "Which I _think_ actually turned 'im on. That boy's got the hots for ya."

Fiona grinned. "I know."

But Sasha wasn't through with her sister. "Fiona, I - " she began.

The newbie Vault Hunter waved her off flippantly. "Look, _I know_ , all right? And I'm actually ... _okay_ with it. Even gave him my blessing when we were going into the Vault on Pandora." Sasha gawked at her, dumbfounded. "And he's been looking out for you, saved you from a Radscorpion _and_ hauled you outta 81. Hell, he was a trooper when we got here. Bleeding like a stuck skag and sick as a dog but he managed to carry you all the way to the infirmary before his legs realized they didn't wanna work anymore, so, yeah, I'm game for it so long as you're happy." Taking another bite of her insta-meal, Fiona added with a smirk and a wink, "But what kind of big sister would I be if I didn't wave a big stick and threaten him every now and again? 'Sides, with that implant he'll be right as rain in no time."

Sasha drummed her fingers along the side of her food cup awkwardly. "Well, uh ... thanks, I guess?"

"Any time, sis."

"But _maybe_ ease up on the thwacking? He's kinda been getting beat up a lot lately." Fiona stirred her spoon around and whistled. Sasha supposed that was a good enough answer and turned her attention to Vaughn, who was positively beaming at her.

"So do I get to call you 'little sis' now?" Sasha's cheeks turned pink.

"How did you get here?" she pressed on, dodging the question.

"Lilith." Fiona and Sasha exchanged glances. She knew that name from somewhere ... "Athena went and got ahold of Lilith." The gladiator stared sternly at him. "Er, well ... Zer0 kind of forced us to. She can phasewalk and stuff, so it seemed like the best option. That Siren we saw back at the Vault mentioned Earth so she started scouring different dimensions and versions of Earth until she found one that had a trace of something Siren-y on it." The former Hyperion accountant produced something small and glassy from his jacket. It almost looked like a pocket watch with a small green glowing dot in the center. "Cassius went back to the biodome with LB and Gortys. They're working on a transmitter and teleporter. They're tracing our coordinates with this thing so he can figure out where we're at and link us back to Pandora."

"Better keep that under wraps," Sasha advised. "The Brotherhood of Steel's supposed to be like vultures when it comes to superior tech."

"Yeah. Fi filled us in. But, hey, they were checking out the caravan and nobody's tried to pull anything apart yet so that's a good sign, right?" His chuckle was less than convinced. "And yeah, Rhys' signal - the old ECHO eye used to emit an electric pulse we could trace with the right Atlas equipment, so once Lilith landed us here we went for it. I didn't realize it got, you know, _blown_ _out_. The old bits must've been back at that place you were holed up at. The Synth replacement looks nifty though."

"Where'd the other Vault Hunters go, anyway?" Fiona piped up, chucking her now-empty cup into a trash can and standing. "Lilith, Maya, Brick, Mordecai, Zer0 ... they all just took off without really saying anything."

"They're Vault Hunters, and they're used to getting betrayed at every corner, so they're getting a lay of the land here in case things go downhill." Athena uncrossed her arms with a sigh, solemn despite Janey's approving smile that the gladiator hadn't gone and joined them. "Lilith's fuming but ... look, Sasha, I'm gonna give you a heads up just like I did with Rhys and everybody else in this room. The only reason Lilith agreed to help us is because she's under the impression there's a Vault here. One of Pandora's Vaults, I mean. Not the underground shelters."

Sasha hesitated. " _Here_? I thought Elpis and Pandora only got those?"

"They pop up throughout the universe. It's, uh ... " Athena was hesitant, attempting to clear-cut her words. "Whenever Lilith killed Handsome Jack - she was the one who did it the first go-round when he was actually _mortal_ and not an AI - she and Maya and a bunch of others got a glimpse of this map that showed different planets that had Vaults. Earth was one of them. And _this_ Earth one has a Siren ... somewhere. I don't believe in coincidences and neither does she."

"So, uh ... " Sasha felt horribly uncomfortable and flustered all in one go and she couldn't really discern why. "I get that Lilith is out here for her own means, but why the foreboding talk? As long as we stay out of her way, we'll be fine right?"

But everybody's eyes moved to the bathroom and Sasha found herself swallowing hard. Now that she thought about it, how much of Rhys' queasiness was from the concussion and how much of it was from his nerves getting the best of him?

"Rhys needs to watch his step, and since you're around him more than anybody, you need to be keeping an eye out, too. Lilith has a huge hard-on for Atlas, a bigger one than I had, because of the Crimson Lance and Commandant Steele. She almost threw Cassius out a window until we talked her down. And Hyperion ... she almost outright refused to help when she found out Rhys used to work with them. The only bargaining chip was telling her how he'd offed the AI-version Nakayama created and brought down Helios. It staved off her anger but I don't want them being alone together for any reason. I think ... I think Lilith might try to kill him, given the chance."

The thought of, _I'd riddle her with bullets first_ , sprung into her mind. Athena caught the fire in her eyes and shook her head.

"You wouldn't stand a chance against her, so don't even try." She grunted, rubbing her chin. "It makes this whole thing delicate because we need her help finding the Siren kid. Even Brick and Mordecai are uneasy around her. Ever since Jack killed off her boyfriend she's been one hell of a loose cannon. There was this guy once ... Timothy. He was Jack's body double. Lilith hunted him down and strung his intestines on a tree like Christmas decorations."

A tense silence was subjected upon them, broken only by Fiona's troubled laugh. "Don't sweat it. We're all gonna watch out for him. Shit, technically he's like my brother now, so ... so _hey_ ," she changed the subject, trying to lighten the mood, "I might be going on my first official Vault Hunt soon."

Janey nodded. "An' that lad MacCready was here for some o' that conversation. He looked pretty interested."

"I might have to talk to Mordecai about taking him under his wing," Athena mused with a terse smile, "seeing as they both prefer long-range fighting."

Sasha pushed herself out of the bed, relieved to find her clothes remained on and, for the most part, intact. She started for the window and instead almost jumped out of her skin as a thin arm wrapped around her waist. Rhys appeared next to her, holding the ice pack to his head with a robotic arm, and smiled broadly. His Synth eye was expressionless but his human orb looked weighed down by a thousand years' worth of ghosts. Sasha wondered how much of Athena's speech he'd heard for the second time that day and squeezed him tight with a sigh.

When her eyes closed, she could see the explosion and flaming red mushroom-cloud. "The bomb," she gasped, wondering how she could have forgotten what landed them at the Institute in the first place. "Oh shit, what happened topside? Diamond City and Sanctuary Hills - "

"They're fine," Rhys assured her. He rethought his words and added, "Er - well - mostly, kinda ... I mean the towns aren't but the people are, uh ... Deacon said Sanctuary Hills fled into Vault 111 and most of Diamond City joined Goodneighbor in something he called The Third Rail. Everything else is ... " He stumbled on his words, not wanting to be the one who delivered the bad news but nobody else was stepping up to take his place. "It's - it's a total firestorm up there. Everything in a three mile radius got leveled." Sasha looked down. Fiona, Vaughn, Athena, and Janey stared in different directions, each expressing different versions of remorse. It was easier for the latter three to digest, but seeing that nuclear explosion was enough to rattle anybody's good senses. "There was - um ... I heard a couple of BoS guys downstairs talking about relaying in survivors. Th-They got a couple already. Some Ghoul named Hancock and that Preston guy we heard on the radio from Sanctuary showed up to grab MacCready earlier."

"And the big guy. What was his name? Strong?" Vaughn blew carbon, twitching his head from side-to-side. "Super Mutants are _built_ , man."

Athena laughed. "He almost made Brick look tiny. _Almost_."

Sasha thought about the brahmin and the trader and wondered if the same fate greeted the settlers who couldn't get out of the blast radius in time. Their group had been fortunate enough to have the caravan, but there were no other working vehicles anywhere in the Commonwealth. How many families, how many innocents, were victim to conflagration?

"Let's take a tour," Janey quipped from nowhere, holding Athena's shoulder and luring her towards the door. The conversation was lingering on a depressing tone clearly none of them wanted to be involved. "This place is huge an' we could learn a thing or two, yea?"

Vaughn and Fiona followed them out. Sasha began advancing but Rhys spun her around and planted a kiss on her lips. It was simple and endearing, but for once Sasha found herself melting in his grasp.

"I love you," he breathed, whisking some of the sadness away with his words. Then, copying her own sentence to him when he cheated death, added with a grin, "Don't ever do that again, okay?"

She giggled. It felt refreshing to giggle. "I'll try."

" _Hey, lovebirds!_ "

They walked into the hallway with a little less lead weighing their feet down. Fiona greeted the with an impatient glare. It wasn't very effective and dissipated when Rhys shot her a nonplussed expression of content.

"So Fiona ... Me, a _brother_? Really?"

"Well, hey, d - "

"So you're, like, my little sister because I'm way taller than you?"

"I'm two years older than you, asshole."

"And I'm a foot taller than _you_ , shrimp."

_THWACK!_

"Gh-gh- **gheee** _ItakeitbackItakeitbackleggo!_ "

* * *

"Have a seat," said Head Scribe Haylen, showing them to a room with one long table and several chairs. "The Elder will be with you shortly."

And she was gone. Piper stared on unobtrusively, scrutinizing the door closing gently behind Haylen. "Wasn't that the girl from the police station? The one in Cambridge?"

"That it was," Nick stated simply. He took a seat and lit a cigarette.

Deacon's 'casual' rummaging gifted him with a white and blue Institute coat and sometime between then and Vault 81 he'd gone and shaved his head. He folded his hands inconspicuously and set his mouth into a frown. "Hehe, do I look like I've got a stick up my ass enough?" he joked without breaking the stature.

"Pucker it up a little - like ya've gone and shoved it up _way_ in thar," warbled Cait's thick Irish accent. She brushed her long red hair aside and drummed her fingers restlessly on the table. Her cheeks were rose and her flesh beamed a healthy shine - something new and refreshing to see since she'd kicked her chem habit ... as opposed to somebody like Hancock, who was leaning back in a chair with a dazed, engrossed stare at the ceiling. An empty Jet inhaler lay in front of him.

"This is a whole buncha shit, man," he drolled, puffing mist with every word he uttered. "What a fuckin' _mess_. Is Danse really in charge now? Shouldn't they have, you know, tried obliterating me n' Nicky Boy already?"

"They didn't seem all too concerned. Maybe they've changed? Considering Danse is a Synth and by Brotherhood policy he should've been killed, not allowed to rise to power." Preston Garvey was a little too comfortable with their situation. MacCready found it disconcerting.

"Des about shit herself when she saw the BoS outfits," Deacon's mouth remained stiff as he took Cait's advice. Despite his desire to act the part of stuffy Institute scientist, he held an actual genuine tone is discontent. "So did I. Had to check myself, too. They didn't draw on us, even though they knew who they were. I feel like we're getting set up for some elaborate mouse trap: lock us all in a room and cut off the oxygen or poison our food or something."

"If they wanted us dead, they could have left us on the surface." Nick wasn't scolding or chiding, but he definitely tried to remain as neutral as possible while shifting uncomfortable in his seat. He took a long drag and found the table very interesting. "It's _Danse_ , not Maxson."

"By those standards, he _should've_ left us up there," snapped MacCready from his standpoint on the wall. He refused to sit down, instead hugging himself with one arm while the other hand idly rubbed around his newly-blackened eye. The merc would much rather be next to an angry Fiona than in this room. "That's his MO anymore, isn't it?"

Echoing his sentiment of dislike, Strong paced back and forth in front of him, grumbling about how, "Stupid humans, wanting to talk all the time," and, "Strong hungry, want to eat."

"We'll get our answers in due time," the Synth detective rubbed his burned out butt onto the table with a little too much pleasure. For all his calm passiveness, Valentine found being in the Institute as disconcerting as everybody else. It was ironic considering he'd been made there, but as he reminded MacCready and the others several times, his memory of the place had been completely wiped from his data banks. The only thing he felt now was a foreboding sense of apprehension.

"Let's wait it out," Preston agreed. "Nora at least _tried_ to be diplomatic with the Brotherhood. We should try, too."

But MacCready couldn't quell his irritation. He rubbed his hands together, trying to think of something pleasant - like going Vault Hunting. That would be fun. _But not as fun as smashing Danse's smug fucking face in._

"I can't believe we're even in here," Piper whistled. "Nora's the only one who's ever seen the Institute. Yeah, she spun tales but ... I didn't think it would look anything like _this_."

There were voices on the other side of the door. Everybody in the room fell into a dead silence as a man that could only be Danse thanked somebody named Knight-Seargent Brandis and dismissed him for the evening. Then the door opened and the room's anticipation almost exploded to life.

"I'm sorry I've kept you waiting so long," spoke the thick, military-grade voice of the synthetic BoS Elder. "There were matters I needed to attend to."

MacCready thought he sounded stuffy, unimpressed, and unamused. Business-like. He didn't like it.

Several people exhaled slowly. Nick made the first utterance - a slow, drawling, "As I live and breathe ... "

Danse hadn't changed once since his disappearance from Sanctuary Hills - and that was to be expected, considering he was artificial. His face remained scarred, coupled with a well-trimmed goatee and brown hair. Seeing him outside of his power armor was ... well ... surprising. He never went anywhere without it before. Now he adorned a long navy blue garb with a high collar and long sleeves. His hands and feet were clad in indigo-colored gloves and boots. In the openings of his coat, one could see blackened combat armor.

He wasn't nearly as tall as MacCready remembered and he had to remind himself that the power armor added at least a foot to the height of anybody wearing it. Nora had towered over him when she wore her shark armor.

"The missing man appears," Hancock spoke slowly, his Jet high bringing his version of time to a crawl. "You didn't get us shot or stabbed in the back. What's the occasion?"

"Have you been here this whole _time_?" Piper pressed. For once, she wasn't reaching for her pad and paper, though her hands were wringing. "It's good to see you're alive and all ... but if you were here why didn't you say something?"

"There' quite a bit I need to explain to you all," the Elder spoke as he took his seat at the table's head.

MacCready felt fire in his veins. "You're _goddamn right_ you do."

"And I will, Robert," Danse addressed him. MacCready flinched at the use of his first name. He felt his stomach curdle with acid and hate. "Are you willing to hear me out?"

MacCready didn't respond. Nick took his place. "The Brotherhood openly despises Synths, Ghouls, and Super Mutants. But not only did your members complacently greet and talk with us instead of gunning us down like we all expected they would, but you willingly took in the Railroad and have several Synths and Ghouls living amongst you already." The detective frowned, but it was more out of confusion than disapproval. "I saw General Zao downstairs and several of the Synths that rebelled against the Institute are wandering freely ... "

Danse folded his hands. He looked neither nervous or tense, but professional and firm.

"When I left two years ago, it was a mere personal agenda. I discovered myself to be a Synth, was cast out by Maxson, and then the Brotherhood fell. My entire world had fallen down around me and I needed to clear my head, understand who I was and what, exactly, was my purpose." He pressed his two index fingers together and stared at them intently. "I did not find the Institute right away. My first year was spent wandering. I stopped by several settlements and watched them live. Many of them became a co-habitation between civilized Ghouls, humans, and freed Synths and it was ... peaceful. Despite obvious physical differences and an initial fear of the Synths because of their origins, they worked together in full knowledge of what they all were. The only conflicts that arose came when Raiders and wasteland monsters attacked, and those were handled efficiently with every citizen relying on each other.

"Within the year I learned of Nora's disappearance and - "

"And where _were_ you?" MacCready was striding towards him. He planted his hands on the table, bringing his face close and leering down at him. "You sure as _hell_ didn't come knocking on our doors when she went missing."

"MacCready," Nick began, but the mercenary silenced him with a glare.

"I decided it was best not to show my presence at Sanctuary Hills. Not at the moment." His eyes locked with MacCready's. Neither backed down. "I was well aware my actions instilled hatred towards myself and I felt it unwise to appear and, thus, complicate an already delicate situation."

"A situation **YOU** caused." MacCready could feel his face turning red, could feel the rage surging through his chest. "Do you have any idea ... _ANY idea_ ... what happened after you left? You being there could have _stopped_ it. You **being there** could have resulted in _nothing_ happening. Do you understand that? Did you even think for one moment, one _second_ , of Nora as you turned your coward ass out of Sancturary's gates? Did you even - even ... "

_He remembered the day Nora returned from the Institute for the second time: the way her teal eyes wallowed with a kind of deep-seated regret with her platinum blond hair frayed and pulled halfway out of its usual ponytail as she strode silently through Sanctuary's entrance. Danse had met her there, held her tight, and Nora stood listless, quiet, and miserable. She vanished that very same day, indulging on a week-long chem binge with a Hancock all-too eager to placate her sorrows in the only way he knew how. When they'd finally managed to convince the Ghoul that she'd had enough and needed to come home, it had taken Preston, Danse, Deacon, and Nick - an ironic combination, looking back on it - to hold her thrashing body down long enough to force a dosage of Addictol down her throat. And she had cried and wept and screamed ... about Father. About her son. About his vision of a better future. About the destruction of all factions that would oppose him. About how no amount of talking and pleading would change his mind. The man refused to see reason, could not think with compassion, did not know what love was ... and she had blamed herself for not being there, for not being the mother she'd wanted to be, for allowing her son to become a monster with a fantastic plan for world rejuvenation but going about it in all the wrong ways, even resorting to mass murder ..._

_About how, despite his almost nonexistent exposure to radiation, Father was dying of cancer._

_A week later and with all of the chems detoxed from her body, Nora resigned herself to the staggering realization that she would have to cut down the Institute. That she would have to lead a rebellion from the inside with the help of Synths who wanted to be free. That she would have to kill her own son. "For the good of the Commonwealth," she had told herself, though her voice was numb and heavy. "For the good of the Commonwealth ... "_

_Nora repeated those very same lines, equally sad, when Maxson's passionate pursuit of racial purity became too fervent to quell. All talks of negotiations between the Brotherhood of Steel, the Railroad, and the Minutemen ended with his determined speech about how Synths, Ghouls, and Super Mutants were abominations and needed to be destroyed to ensure the future of mankind. She had tried to talk him down and she had failed. And Nora had thought about Nick, about Hancock and Zao, about Danse - who had only recently discovered his true origins - and about Strong ... and rather than let the Prydwen and Liberty Prime descend upon Boston in a chaotic storm of hellfire that would level half of the city in a reckless, civilian-endangering search for the Railroad's headquarters, she had done the only thing she could think of._

_But that time, she hadn't returned to find Danse waiting for her._

_She'd gone into her old home and sat there for days on end. Not eating. Not sleeping. Her cold comfort came in the form of four lonely walls, the empty crib where Shaun once slept, the decaying town she had been wanting to raise her family in, the Vault on the horizon where her husband's corpse lay, the vanishing footsteps of the Brotherhood Paladin stepping off into the distant sunset ..._

_One by one, they approached her. Deacon was new to the whole friendship thing and attempted awkward jokes. Nora did not laugh. Cait, cleaned of her chem addiction, presented her with food. Nora did not eat. Hancock, who was far_ _**from** _ _clean, offered drugs. Nora did not oblige. In the end, Nick pulled up a chair and sat with her in silence._

_When MacCready walked by hours later with the intention of trying to make his boss crack a smile, Nora was weeping freely in Nick's arms. In a different life, the detective could have been her aged, wise father._

_"For the good of the Commonwealth."_

_Nora kept repeating that to herself every time Preston sent her on a mission to help a settlement, every time Tinker Tom requested another weathervane to be set up, ever time a citizen requested assistance. And her journeys into the wasteland became longer and longer and longer until one day she just never came back._

MacCready remembered Lucy. He remembered Duncan. A fierce tightness gripped his chest and tears sprung to the corner of his eyes.

"Did you even **love** her, you snide, self-obsessed piece of _shit_?"

There was something like fury in Danse's eyes and a spark let off in MacCready's head. _Good, fucking fight me. Come at me._ "That's a more personal and private subject, soldier - "

" _I'm not your fucking soldier,_ _ **Danse**_!" He thrust a finger into the Elder's face. "Nick's more metal than man and he's _still_ more human than you could ever HOPE to be!"

Danse didn't say anything and that pissed him off even more. MacCready felt his finger become one with his balling fist, his arm rear back .. and a delicate hand grab his wrist.

"Monsieur MacCready, please stop zis!"

God, he recognized that voice. Curie's accent was hard to miss and it was the only one like that out here in the Commonwealth. And though he was surprised, there wasn't enough of him to care. He wrenched his arm free and strode towards the door, a red haze grasping his vision. Part of him wanted to find Fiona for reasons he wasn't completely aware of. A more compelling side of his brain argued the benefits of getting shitfaced. The more he thought about it, the more dry his mouth felt.

"You all have fun with your _tea party_ ," MacCready bit angrily. "Come get me when you actually wanna _do_ somethin' about finding Nora."

"MacCready - "

"It's alright, Nick. Let him go."

"But ... "

He wanted to wrench the door of its hinges and fling it to the side, but it opened automatically and that infuriated him even more. He didn't bother with the suit-clad man that came strolling up, uttering a, "Mister MacCready, is that you?" He didn't laugh when Strong randomly threw a tantrum and exited the room after him. He just wanted to get away.

The stairs flew beneath him and MacCready was on the ground floor before he could catch his breath. He only paused once, and that was when Fiona called to him from across the room. They locked eyes briefly and the Vault Hunter's lit up with concern.

He didn't recall inviting them but imagined it was Fiona who led the cuckold, Sasha tailing because her sister was concerned and Rhys because Sasha was dragging him along. One way or the other, he found himself back in the room Fiona's sister was convalescing in beforehand. He sat down, dug in the rucksack he'd brought along, and removed a small flask of whiskey.

"Drink with me."

It wasn't a request.

Fiona stared at it, flopping down on the sofa with a soft laugh that forced a smile from MacCready's frowning maw. "I hope you've got more than that, Mac."

Rhys claimed the desk's wheeled chair and rolled over on it. Sasha leaned over his shoulders, holding two bottles out in either hand - one of rum and the other vodka. "I think I've got all four of us covered," she winked.

The Atlas CEO's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Left them at Oberland Station, did you?"

"I might have taken a _few_ souvenirs ... " She set the bottles down and scavenged for glasses, then poured them each a shot. "After today, I think we've earned it."

MacCready slung back the fire water, grimaced, and held up his flask. " _Preach_."

* * *

"Come get me when you actually wanna _do_ somethin' about finding Nora."

Nick stood, walking towards the mercenary. "MacCready - "

"It's alright, Nick," Danse stopped him with a firm edge to his voice, though he was looking away. "Let him go."

"But ... "

The door closed behind MacCready and his thunderous footsteps rolled down the hall. Strong left not too long after, complaining about the amount of talking and lack of fighting. The Super Mutant lumbered past a suited man who stepped in before the door had a chance to start shutting.

"My word," the man spoke, an obvious English tinge blitzing through each word, "Mister MacCready and Strong are awfully sore, aren't they? I wonder what's gotten them so worked up."

Piper jumped to her feet, gawking. "Holy _shit_."

Deacon caught on too, but he was clapping his hands jovially. "Is that my _favorite_ butler I'm hearing?"

" _Codsworth?!_ "

"Why of course! Didn't you recognize me?" He plucked a long black moustache and seemed to realize for the first time that he had hands. "Oh my, that's right. It's been some time, hasn't it? You haven't met me in my new body."

"So Codsworth's joined the Synth brigade," Deacon beamed between him and Curie, winking at the French robot. "Though Curie's _definitely_ cuter. But man, look at you! Strutting your stuff in that suit ... you look like a proper British gentleman. Tally ho, and all that! I don't suppose you've got some tea and crumpets for us?"

"Why no, but I could certainly see about fetching some." He paused. "But I don't believe we have any flour. Or ... or tea leaves."

"I was _joking_ , Codsbot."

"Oh ... were you?"

"I'm ... confused," Piper removed her driver's cap to scratch her head. "Have you been here the whole time? You met missing around the time Nora vanished. We figured you'd went with her."

"Well, I wanted to find mum. She was gone for so long, you see. I ventured my way to the Boston Airport with Miss Curie and was attacked by this most wretched and foul beast I believe you all call ... a Behemoth? Ah, yes! Mister Danse saved us and brought us here."

"Danse ... _Danse_ saved you. A robot. He saved a _robot_."

"Why yes, but if you must, my correct classification would be a Mister Handy, not a simple-minded robot."

"It vas a very intense fight, and incredibly brave of heem," Curie added.

Nick furrowed the flesh where his eyebrows should have been at the Elder. "I ... don't understand. Danse, you've always fathomed a hatred for anything the Brotherhood didn't have. You only tolerated _my_ presence because Nora insisted on it. Why the change of heart?"

The former Paladin breathed deeply. He pressed his hands together and placed them on the table, straightened his back, and conceded. "Nora was right."

"I'm sorry?" Hancock leaned in, cupping a hand to what was left of his ear. "I didn't quite catch that. Could you prove the BoS' standards were wrong _one more time_?"

"Nora was right," Danse relinquished, frowning at the Ghoul Mayor. "Peace can be established no matter the species or, in some cases, the morals, and it can be maintained without tension. It took a full year for me to grasp it and shed everything Maxson had taught me. But I learned through my observations of different settlements ... and I learned from my travels alongside Nora, from watching the way you and her interacted, Nick."

The detective scoffed. "I'm flattered."

"And I am truly sorry," continued Danse (the very word 'sorry' made their ears burn, shocked to hear it come from him), "for not being able to see it when I was in Sanctuary Hills. Everything I had known to be true was called into question. And even when I began to realize the truth in Nora's actions, it was not until I made it to the Boston Airport that I understood the full magnitude of what she had done. Yes, she brought down the Prydwen. Yes, she killed hundreds in an attempt to rid the world of Maxson's overzealous policies. But she had also tried to avoid it.

"At the Airport, I found Scribe Haylen, Initiate Clarke, and Knight Brandis, along with several others. I was not aware and to a degree, I think neither were you, that Nora made a last ditch effort to reach out to all the brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood via a computer message, specially encrypted for specific members to see. Haylen happened to be one of them. She was assigned the duty to evacuate all those who might be willing to revitalize the Brotherhood with a more lenient vision towards mutations and artificial intelligence."

"She ... she ... ," Deacon stammered. "She what?"

"Nora found records of the Brotherhood of Steel's western chapter on the Prydwen's terminals," explained Danse with a glassy look to his eyes. "She also discovered references to the Lyon's Pride. The western chapter formed an alliance with the New California Republic, offering protection to traders and travelers, as well as backup in dealing with any known remnants of the Legion's forces. Elder Lyons in the Capital Wasteland prioritized the safety and wellbeing of civilians over the reclamation of technology. Her theory was that the Brotherhood did not have to end simply because of one bad Elder. That it could be reborn into something more willing to cooperate wth the general public.

"I had heard about Nora's disappearance and, believing the Institute may have had a hand in her vanishing, we dug through the Airport's ruins the find the Relay system we had set up to get her there in the first place. It required some reconstruction. And it only had enough power to teleport us there once. My hypothesis was incorrect and Nora was not here. However, we were forced to remain in our location due to our inability to get the Relay working again. We have since established communication with the outside word by intercepting radio signals, and were able to - as Brandis put it - jury-rig the Relay system to a functionable level. Our teleportation of that peculiar caravan was the first time we have been able to use it."

"That was ... incredibly lucky," Piper breathed. The others nodded solemn agreement. "Does this mean the Brotherhood runs the Institute now?"

Danse shook his head. "While we have taken over this facility, it is a temporary base of operations. The title of Institute Leader, by technicality, belongs to Nora."

Nick rubbed his forehead. _Ahh, that ..._ Nora had mentioned that when she'd come back to Sanctuary. Father's cancer had become aggressive and, in his dying days, he had named his mother as the successor to the 'throne'. It was a title she was unwilling to hold onto, but never outright denied.

Deacon raised his hand. "Two questions: why did you make Codsworth into a Synth, and how did you wind up becoming the Elder even though you _are_ a Synth?"

Codsworth was beaming, removing his bowler hat with a wide sweep of his arms. "I could answer the first query, sir. Miss Curie told me how she became a Synth. I simply wished to be more useful. There is only so _much_ one could do with a buzzsaw for an arm, and I don't have to tell you that it does _not_ include hand-shaking."

"We shut down the Synth creation program," interrupted the Elder, "because though, yes, we may have changed our ways, the Brotherhood still feels the _production_ of Synths is a detestable act. There were, however, several spare parts left over from the Institute's active days and we were able to create a body for Codsworth. As for my becoming the Elder ... that was a vote."

"A vote?!" Hancock spat, laughing. "Wait, you went all ' _for the people, by the people_ ' on us? I wish we'd met _this_ Danse sooner!"

"We have decided that, while we will not condone the creation of new Synths, the Synths that have already been made did not choose to become so. They were birthed by members of the Institute, and punishing them for existing would _also_ be immoral. A Synth can become just as productive a member of civilization as a human. Or a Ghoul." Despite himself, the scarred Synth managed a small smile. "Preston, Deacon ... I am going to lay a proposal on the table for you. The Brotherhood of Steel and the Minutemen have ultimately had no quarrels with each other, and I understand how what I am about to suggest might strike some ire with the Railroad's leader, Desdemona ... but once retrieval of Nora is initiated and she is brought back safely, I would like to discuss the formation of an alliance between all four factions. It is a vision Nora saw, and it is something I would like to fulfill for her sake."

The atmosphere's tension seemed to evaporate with an air of unknowns.

Preston Garvey didn't hesitate for even a second. "You know I would be willing, Elder Danse. Anything for the Commonwealth. Anything for the General."

Deacon huffed, straining like the air had become heavy. "I ... wow ... I'm stunned ... "

"Take your time, Deacon, and approach Desdemona when you feel it is right. I realize she may be cynical about this, but I would like to speak to her in person after se takes the time to consider it."

"You realize she might just ... I don't know ... blow her top?"

"I do."

"Danse," Nick stood, pushing the chair out from under him. The metal groaned against the tiled floor. "This has been absolutely stunning and engrossing ... but the first step to all of this is actually getting Nora _back_." He removed from his arm the Pip-Boy, which he had procured from Rhys shortly after their arrival to the Institute. "We found her Pip-Boy. It was in the possession of a Child of Atom, and I'm sure you're aware of what happened topside ... but it was the result of an implanted device that responded when I hacked the encryption on it and opened a specific file."

He pushed the arm-mounted computer to Danse, who looked it over with a kind of depressed longing that nobody was really expecting to see on his face. He traced a finger over the screen and sighed. "I will bring it to Proctor Grigen. He should be able to trace the signal back to its origin point." Looking back up to the room, he added, "Everybody, thank you for allowing me to speak my peace."

"This is gonna be so outrageously weird coming from me of all people, but uh ... it's kinda nice to see you've turned the other cheek, Danse." Deacon extended an uneasy hand. "I think this is ... uh ... what we're supposed to do, right?"

A flutter of humor wafted through the room and Danse, with a stiff chortle of his own, grasped the Railroad Heavy's palm with his much bigger one. "I sincerely hope this can be the start of something spectacular, Deacon."

"So do I, man. So do I."

* * *

What began as a night of casual drinking quickly disintegrated into a discord of laughter and horribly sung songs and storytelling. MacCready was full of tall tales, each more elaborate than the next, and every time Fiona would call him out on his shit, Rhys would jump in with an equally exaggerated ballad. Then Sasha would make a joke and they would share another shot. At some point or another, Rhys and Sasha attempted to lock elbows and drink at the same time ... but Sasha giggled at the worst chance ever and inhaled a bit of liquor, falling to the floor and squealing about how it burned while Rhys erupted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, trying to pluck her from the floor, only to get dragged down himself.

They were a _mess_.

A _happy_ mess.

But a mess nonetheless.

Sasha couldn't speak two words without hiccupping. Rhys couldn't speak a sentence without breaking it up into girly giggles. MacCready would start to say something and get distracted halfway through. And Fiona was just ... everything was a song. Or a poem. Or needed to be enunciated by many, many curse words.

She was also the only one who knew when enough was enough. Grabbing a highly inebriated MacCready by basically slinging him over her shoulder, she left the young couple to their own devices. Rhys had waved them goodbye with a goofy open-mouthed grin. Just as the door was about done closing, Fiona could see a flash of red as Sasha tackled the poor drunken lad.

" _Eeeeeeee - !_ " Rhys' scream was silenced and several seconds later Fiona could hear whispered chuckles and coos. She didn't need x-ray vision to see what might be going on, and she didn't want to stick around to hear any more of it.

MacCready was a dead weight. It certainly didn't help her hindered gravity. They'd stumbled over several steps and almost fell down several more, so it was a miracle when they finally found their way to what had been established as his room. Fiona dropped him on his bed and woozily sat down herself, momentarily forgetting what she was doing or where she was until the mercenary wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

She either got sober really quick or had the reflexes of a lightning bolt, because Fiona spun and pressed her hand firmly against his chest to keep him from pulling her any closer. "H-Hey now Mac, yer pretty wasted."

The former mayor of Little Lamplight pouted sorrowfully. "But ... cans ah get jush a ... ?" He puckered his lips. Paired with the most pitiful look Fiona'd ever seen anybody wear, the Vault Hunter couldn't help but snort.

"Fine, but that's all your getting." She leaned in and pressed her lips to his and ... was astonished, really, by the electrical sensation she felt. There was this crazy rapid beating her heart was doing and a fluttery sensation in her gut that didn't belong. For a minute she forgot that she was supposed to break free from the embrace, but MacCready's hand slowly creeping up her neck to the back of her head reminded her. She smacked his fingers away, breaking their kiss with a smirk and a, " _Bad_ mercenary, _bad_."

MacCready grabbed a pillow and mewled into it. _Oh my god,_ thought Fiona, not used to the _thump-thump_ ing in her chest, _he's freaking cute as shit._

Fiona stood and stumbled backwards. "I'mma ... I'mma go now."

But MacCready's one hand reached out to her with a wide-eyed stare that reminded her way too much of a sad child who's teddy bear was about to get taken away. "Pleaaaashe don't leave me alone, Fi? I dun wanna be alone."

His pleading tone acted like a grappling hook on her body. She sat first, then lay down on the bed next to him. Without much warning, he'd pulled her to him again ... but this time he just draped an arm over her. Fiona found that she liked the sensation of his war body against her a little too much to move, and she was grateful that MacCready was restrained enough to not try anything when she was getting to that point of unwilling to fight back.

"I'mma tell ya a shtory," he slurred, the liquor on his breath thick. "An ish cuz ah like ya and ah want ya to know all 'bot me n' shtuff, no secrets."

Fiona pressed herself into him to absorb as much of his heat as she could. It was really ridiculously comfortable. "What's yer story?"

"Did I ever tell you I ushed to have a wife?"


	12. Pulse

  
   
_"Take a good look around you, Rhys ... "  
  
Helios was burning: crumbling into pieces. Each explosion ripped apart what the cold, relentless vaccum of space did not. Bodies were flung into space - flailing helplessly with wide, fearful eyes as their flesh turned blue and the pressure crushed their small, fragile bodies.  
  
" ... This is what success looks like."  
  
Escape pods slamming into one another; The stray limb tossed carelessly into Pandora's gravitational pull; The screams, oh the screams -  
  
"You'll see. After a while you start to measure it by the size of the pile of destruction around you."  
  
Helios on Pandora - a hulking, creaking, burning mechanical skeleton of its former glory, decorated with broken windows and ripped flesh torn on ragged corners and corpses haphazardly strung around the broken sheets of metal.  
  
"You've gotta break it down to build it back up."  
  
A nuclear bomb- flames and ashes and debris flung miles into the air: waves ripping through land; people incinerated as they slept, walked, held their families; a thick blanket of ash and fallout settling on the nothing that remained.  
  
"This was your first step in that. It's the only way, you'll see. And there's so much to break down before you can build again."  
  
He remembered how somber Handsome Jack sounded - sad, defeated, recollecting his failures and bestowing them on what would have, if things had gone differently, become his young protege. But Rhys rejected Hyperion. Rejected Handsome Jack. Rejected all the solitude and loneliness that went hand-in-hand with becoming the soul-crushing corporation's new figurehead. Rejected the bitter, dead-eyed, violent future it would lead to. Rejected the hatred and loathing and fear all would feel towards him because he didn't **want** to be hated and loathed and feared. It took almost two months on a war-wracked planet filled with murderers and thieves and cannibals to figure out that it was no longer something he desired. It took Fiona's s sardonic love for her hat, Scooter's selfless sacrifice, the flower in Sasha's hair ..._

"No man. I'll find a different way to do things."  
  
While Old Haven's Atlas facility was a cold replica of Hyperion's standards, the biodome was not. There were several reasons he picked the latter. The rejuvenating feel of mutant plants and giant fruits and glowing trees represented everything that could be if a company could be driven down an entirely different path - one intent on **giving** life instead of taking it away.  
  
"I'm not gonna follow in your - "  
  
Damn it, he should have seen it. Should have heard it.  
  
A familiar probing disturbed his brain. Electrical impulses tickled his synapses. Atlas' biodome was cracking, the plants withering and dying. Rhys was compelled to turn around by a will that was no longer his own, apprehension in his mismatched eyes locking with the furious holographic ones of Handsome Jack.  
  
They weren't in the ruined Helios anymore, not on the devastated Commonwealth, not before the luscious biodome. Their scenery became black - a void in the absence of life and noise and light. Handsome Jack lifted his arm. So did Rhys, involuntarily.  
  
"It's the same everywhere you go, kiddo. Every planet, every dimension ... Peace is only going to come to Earth, to Pandora, to **everywhere** by stepping on a few cockroaches. You heard the stories about this place. The raiders, the Institute, the Brotherhood of Steel and the Legion ... Stability's only present because they were knocked from the game."  
  
Wires groaned under the strain of Rhys' arm, pulling behind him farther behind him than it was used to. Jack's grin was unwavering. A bubbling sensation rose in his stomach - an emotion he hadn't felt the full grasp of before. Rhys fought for his arm: pulling it down. Sparks flew from connections; metal bent and snapped.  
  
"There's other ways to establish peace, Jack."  
  
"Look at you with a little bit of bite in ya! Nice spunk, kiddo. You've got stars in your eyes, I'll give you that. But sooner or later reality is going to come crashing down - just like it did with that bomb."  
  
Rhys' atempts at siezing control of his own body proved feeble. Jack ripped his back with a twist, slung it behind him once more, and thrust it forward - through his own chest. Pain ripped through every nerve ending. The urge to scream eploded from his mouth, but Rhys found he lacked the voice to echo what he felt. He didn't want to look down. He refused to look down. A blink later and he didn't have to: Handsome Jack was no longer Handsome Jack. He was Rhys, with his robotic arm embedded between his ribs, with his beating cardiac muscle beating steadily in clasped, metallic fingers.  
  
"That heart of your's is gonna get you killed, kid. It sure as hell put **me** six feet under. But don't worry ... "  
  
Jack's doppleganger smile changed with the transformation of lips and flesh. Jack-Rhys was no longer Rhys. It was Fiona. It was Nick. It was Vaughn. It was Cassius. It was Piper. It was Sasha ...  
  
Nails burrowed into his throbbing heart. Sasha's contorting agony mirrored his own. Knees hit the cold, hard ground. Jack's voice was a whisper in his ear; a cold razor along his spine.  
  
" ... I'll make sure to **crush** it, force you to see how **hard** you have to make it to do the right thing. And then, just when you have it all figured out, I'll come for you."  
  
Rhys squeezed his hand tight. His heart burst like a grape. Sasha was on the ground, face-down. He was falling too.  
  
"I'll be seeing you soon, Rhysie-boy."

___________  
  
  
Rhys awoke with a cold, hard knot in his chest and blackness surrounding him.  
  
It was easy to forget his surroundings. Both cybernetic and organic eyes darted back and forth, hoping to pierce the darkness, his alcohol-fogged brain perceiving noises and shadows that didn't exist. Lungs filled and deflated at an exceptional speed; his heart, flurrying in fear and memories of the pain it had been in, slung the orchestra of rushing blood into his ears; his fingers flexed, inorganic digits unable to grasp what they were resting on until a simple slide of his palm indicated he was not alone; his sluggish mind slowly registered the presence of a body with its back curled against his bare chest.  
  
_Deep breaths, Rhys, deep breaths._ The body obeyed relunctantly, snapping back upon its fight-or-flight reflexes and relinquishing command to the upheaval of previously dimmed sensations. As his heart slowed and the drumming of circulation in his eardrums died to a bearable level, he could hear Sasha's distinct, soft breathing. She was warm against him. And alive. Still very much alive. _It's okay. She's okay. You're okay. We're totally good. Totally not dead._ _No holes in our chests today, nosiree._  
  
With the churning of his stomach and the slow, steady throb that thumped against electronic-lined gray matter, he realized this was probably going to be the last time he drank for a while.  
  
Rhys bent his head to the back of her's and sighed, breath rolling down Sasha's neck and causing her, much to his endeared amusement, to wriggle and giggle all in one go. A thousand butterflies flapped their wings in his stomach. He smiled, closing his eyes ... and realized for the first time how silent their surroundings were. No thunder. No lightning. No rain. No monsters or wild animals. No gunshots or screams. Even the hum of technology was so low-key that one could only truly auscultate it by focusing very hard. It was so unostentatiously normal that it was simultaneously comforting and unnerving.  
  
What was _normal_ anymore?  
  
He expected the uneventful tidings to lull him back to sleep. Another five minutes of laying there with his eyes closed and the tumultuous incoherence of his own thoughts drove him to remove himself from the bed, carefully and quietly so he didn't wake Sasha. Pressing a kiss to her cheek as he decamped was too impossible and urge to resist. Her resulting smile illuminated by his glowing Synth eye made the gesture all the more rewarding. If those butterflies kept reproducing like this, Rhys felt like he was going to float away.  
  
Every one of the rooms at the Institute had their own little patio overlooking the main lobby. Rhys slipped on his pants, fumbled with his shirt with more difficulty than he would have liked before abandonning it, and staggered gracelessly towards the door with a hangover straight from hell. Leaning on the railing made him dizzy if he looked down. So he stared straight ahead, watching the swirling elevator designed to mimic a double helix. Hypnosis was a new thing to him. He certainly felt it as the elevator spun and twirled its optical illusion with no qualms about who might be looking.  
  
Rhys wasn't one to walk around shirtless. He always thought himself too pale - slipping off to the beach with swimming trunks in his college days rewarded him with some of the most painful sunburns he'd ever had the horrid luck of acquiring - or too scrawny - all sinew and no muscle - to pull it off. Vaughn, in the meantime, could strip a shirt and get away with it. _An exercise bike ... Why didn't I think of that?_ Going around without a top now was most likely the result of him not beeing fully aware of his senses. Hell, he wasn't even chilly.  
  
Oh wait.

  
They were underground. There wasn't a _breeze_ underground. Maybe that was what bothered him ... the falseness of their locale. For all the green shrubs and trees planted in the Institute's atrium, for all the lights pinned along the ceiling to resemble a night sky, there was no life - no crickets, no mockingbirds, no wind, no frogs - just the trickling of water from a fountain that never stopped. Commonwealth inhabitants would find it more than enough. Witnessing fresh, growing, green grass and healthy fuana were pleasures they were not acquainted with. But for the man who was half-man and half-machine, this was almost _too_ artificial.  
  
Wave after wave of interesting notions flooded his head and Rhys suddenly wished he'd taken after Piper's habit of always having a pen and notepad on hand. Remembering all of this once the inebriation subsided into a headache and sickness was no guarantee. He tried to store it in his memory for future use anyway.  
  
Irradiated plant life, toxic waters, sickly green clouds of deadly, radiation-emitting lightning ... Maybe, and it was a long-shot, but maybe there was something he could do. _Maybe_ there was a real goal: Atlas' first big project. It would take a lot of work and a lot of people but ... but maybe the effects of the bombs -  
  
The bombs.  
  
He wished he hadn't thought about that.  
  
Handsome Jack's voice came flowing back to him. Rhys pressed his metallic hand over where his heart was pounding. He liked thinking in-depth about his dreams as much as he liked running around without clothes, but the magnitude of what he'd felt when the AI serial killer spoke - that quivering, festering, _steaming_ rage - almost made him tremble with unease. He didn't want to be greeted with the destruction of Helios every time he closed his eyes. He didn't want to rewitness the birth of atomic destruction that lay waste upon the land. Even now the world was burning above. How many hundreds, nay, _thousands_ died in the five-megaton's initial rock-ripping eruption? How many more would cave to radiation sickness and thermal burns? How many would starve when their crops refused to grow in glowing soil? It would take decades for the Commonwealth to find enough equilibrium to replenish itself - decades not everybody had. And how long would the Institute's resources last with so many civilians taking shelter there? The greenhouse would keep them supplied for a while, but eventually that would run dry.  
  
The Children of Atom sought to cleanse the world in Atom's mighty glow. Was this level of devastation really what they envisioned?  
  
_"You've gotta break it down ... "_  
  
He felt sick.  
  
Rhys drove his eyes away from the elevator's spinning magnetism and felt the depths of his miserable thoughts become a bottomless chasm.  
  
All sorts of owls were drawn out by the morning's wee hours.  
  
Numerous Commonwealth refugees found their way to the catwalks. Some slumped with their backs against the glass. Others were kneeling, their heads in their hands. And every single one of them looked ... looked ... Rhys felt shame throttle his insides. With all the confusion of that evening's constant movement coming to a head when he, MacCready, Fiona, and Sasha curled up in several bottles of liquor, he hadn't even _thought_ of how many people lost family members and friends in the catastophe above.  
  
While his mind screamed to look away, he found it was something he simply couldn't do. So Rhys slammed shut his eyelids instead and felt a dizziness sweep over him.  
  
Sasha had impeccable timing. He didn't notice her soft footsteps until she nudged her way under his human arm and leaned sleepily against his chest. It was a simple, trusting, loving gesture his aching heart was grateful for. Rhys pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head and reverberating what was quickly becoming a characteristic thrum of his throat.  
  
"Black Cat." Sasha closed her eyes and smiled. "Nightmares?"  
  
He also realized she had a knack for reading his mind. "The worst."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Rhys noticed something fuzzy rubbing against him. Sasha must have grabbed one of the bath robes stockpiled by the shower. It looked ridiculously warm.  
  
"The bomb?"

She nodded. "Mhmm."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"I don't like not being able to do anything." Her face remained content but her voice was troubled. "I feel so _useless_."  
  
Those ideas came flooding back. He kissed her forehead and was humored to find her mocking his own _thrum_ in response. "I've got a plan, maybe ... a way to pitch some help in."

He almost stumbled when they eyes met. Rhys knew she was ambitious with a drive to match his own when he was really determined to get something, but the shine in her vision spurred a newfound sense of courage and pride. "What plan?"  
  
"Mmm ... ," he delayed his response, holding her in place against him. "How about ... over some breakfast?"  
  
She was definitely green around the gills. "Uhhhh, I don't know if my stomach can handle anything right now ... "  
  
"It's a specialty Vaughn and I concocted in college. It'll beat a hangover right outta you."  
  
As Rhys pulled her back into the room, Sasha laughed sarcastically, "Wait, you can _cook_?"  
  
_______________  


_"Mama."_  
  
That voice again. So soft, so sweet, so little ... Soft warmth contacted her cheek, caressed it with tiny fingers. Again she opened her eyes, and again she saw nothing there.  
  
Nothing ... nothing but atypical turquoise, bubbling fluids. Nothing but the IV ports running to her wrists and abdomen from the outside. Nothing but a thick pane of glass barricading her from the world beyond. Nothing but a room filled with test tubes and electronics and awed faces, always staring, always thinking, always _observing_.  
  
The first time she became familiarized with this place, it was accompanied by the thrashing and screaming and her mouth stretching wide to call for help - _someone_ , _anyone_. Lungs filled with viscous liquid. A normal person would have experienced the agonizing death of drowning. But one with radioactively mutated strands of unusually pure DNA could filter oxygen through their alveoli. Deacon had called her the Water Lad. MacCready referred to her as a Mirelurk. Nora just thought it was cool as hell.  
  
Her brief, frenzied meet and greet with hell was accompanied by the withdrawal of blood and replacing of it with something else - something she couldn't discern. There were mumbles: garbled bits of speech unable to be interpreted through her swishing, watery surroundings. Then sleep reclaimed her mere minutes after coherence took hold of her consciousness. Whatever they pushed through her catheters must have been drugged.  
  
After experiencing the same events over and over for the next several awakenings, she began to understand the truth behind the classic villain line: 'resistance is futile'. No amount of struggling would break her bonds. No amount of shrieking would alert her friends. Complacency took root far too quickly. This wasn't the first time she was trapped on the inside looking out. At least it wasn't a cryogenic pod. She couldn't take the chill every moment she regained orientation. Besides, there was something Zen about floating freely in water.  
  
"Flowin' like a good groove on Jet," she could almost hear Hancock drawl.

Beauty was in the irony: from the stasis pod she was born (so to speak), to the stasis pod she would return. Nick would laugh at her wretched poetry. She missed Nick. She missed Nick and his quips of returned sarcasm for every acrid comment she'd thrown his way. He was just as good at dishing it out as he was taking it.  
  
But Nora hated this.  
  
She hated being forced the surrender.  
  
How long was she under? Nora supposed it could have been centuries, like it was before. Was the Commonwealth green now? Did the Yao Guai actually start growing fur? Or had the factions gone to shit again and obliterated each other into big, glowing pulps?  
  
On more than one occasion, Nora would awaken to look down and gawk at her abdomen: bloated and distended. Horrified, amused laughter would break from her mouth, silenced by the forced coma courtesy of Med-X. When she would stir later, her belly would be back to normal and the Sole Survivor was left to ponder if she'd hallucinated the scenario ... concocted from memories of being pregnant with Shaun ...  
  
_"Mama ... "_  
  
That damn voice again. Why did it keep calling for her? Why did it keep calling her that?  
  
It only started recently, accompanied with a generalized queasiness that struck at random intervals. Whoever was maintaining her IV made sure to dose her up on anti-emetics. Vomit never expelled from her stomach no matter how much she wanted the sickness to be gone.  
  
Always a voice whispering to her. Never anybody there for her to see.  
  
Never anybody, except the group of wide-eyed people and one distinctive man.  
  
Nora assumed it was a man, at least. The stature was large and burly. Through the quaking liquid she could make out bits and pieces of his attire: a brown jacket lined with fur and some boots, but nothing else. No facial features. A cowl constantly hooded his eyes and nose. At times she thought there was a glow about him - not charisma but a literal _glow_ , like somebody had shoved him in a microwave as a kid.  
  
He would arrive silently - not that she could hear the room's door opening and closing anyway - and stand before her suspended animation. A gloved hand would press itself against the translucent surface separating her from him and ... and for whatever reason, a surging hatred would hiss and roar from the very bowels of her soul.  
  
The mysterious stranger was there now, doing what he always did. His cowl moved when he spoke and Nora teased herself with how stupid these people were. Didn't they realize she couldn't understand them? Couldn't _hear_ them?  
  
This time was different. This time she watched clearly as he removed a syringe from his pocket and drew fluid from the IV feeding from her to the outside. It flashed briefly - sharp, definitely a large bore. Then he jammed it into the flesh of his neck. He swept his long coat out from beneath him and sat in a chair placed conveniently in front of her so that she could watch his body contort and twist in strange and new ways. Glowing flesh replaced the normal human tone. Claws struck out where trimmed fingernails should have been. Teeth flashed into a sneer, sharp and dangerous.  
  
And it infuriated her.  
  
She felt the urge to fight prick at her nerves and drive. Mandible gnashed. Limbs twisted. Her wrists tugged until the catheters were yanked free from one limb, clouding the greenish water with plumes of red. Nora howled silently and this time ... this time the water responded, rippling outwards with such force that the glass actually cracked ...  
  
_Cracked!_  
  
Nora's stifled astonishment acted as a brake for further action. Through the administration of more drugs, she drifted off to that dreamless sleep. As the edges of her sight became black she was presented with one more vision. The man-turned-monster removed one more thing from his jacket - something long and metallic and shiny and yellow and blue, tipped with a prong that made it look eerily similar to a needle but ... technological. He flipped it casually through his fingers.  
  
And then he pulled back his cowl.  
  
For the first time since her capture, Nora exhumed carbon dioxide from her lungs so harshly that she thought she might _actually_ drown this time before the haze of turquoise, red, and darkness strangled the life from her eyes and welcomed her back into catatonia once more.  
  
_"Mama ... help is coming."_  
  
  
____________  


They took a little longer to find their way to the kitchen than expected, distracting themselves with showers and a change of clothes (back into some ragtag Wasteland gear, much to Rhys chagrin). Getting lost was not an ordeal. The cafeteria was marked plainly with a glowing neon sign. Vacant due to the odd time of day, Rhys and Sasha were left to their own devices ... for the most part. They were pleasantly surprised to find Vaughn sitting at a table with his back turned towards them, his eyes on some book or comic.  
  
Rhys mouthed a, "This is _perfect_ ," to Sasha and snuck his way behind the shorter man.  
  
Poor Vaughn didn't notice the arms outstretching on either side of him until they scooped him out of the chair and held him, shouting and flailing, in the air.  
  
" _Buuuuudddyy_!"  
  
"He - Hey! What the - oh c'mon!"  
  
Sasha was surprised how quickly she'd forgotten how short Vaughn was compared to Rhys until he'd set him down. By reflex, the Children of Helios reached up to adjust the glasses he didn't have, admonished that he 'wasn't scared' and promptly excused himself to pee. Rhys clapped his hands together. Little victories.  
  
When he returned, they dove into the kitchen like a hivemind - both knowing what to look for and, for the most part, where to find it. Of course there had to be substitutes for some things. While Earth did have birds, they weren't chickens and their mutated condition made her question the benefit their eggs would have. Luckily there was a freeze-dried egg packet for that. And meat, well ...  
  
"Mole Rat Chunks?" Rhys held up a packet of bloody red cubes from the refigerator and contorted his face. " _Auuughh_ that doesn't even - who'd even _eat_ that?"  
  
Sasha thought back to Oberland Station and said nothing.  
  
There wasn't really beef. Well, there was Brahmin which they supposed was the closest they were going to get to beef because they were _technically_ cows at one point ... When Vaughn and Rhys found Brahmin cheese, they noted the color and smell and quickly put it back where they found it.  
  
"No cheese."  
  
"Yep. No cheese. Well, I mean, would that technically be considered _blue_ cheese?"  
  
"Oh my god, Vaughn."  
  
"I'm just saying ... "  
  
They both insisted she sit back and relax, eager to return the favor for all the times she'd cooked for them during their hunt for Gortys pieces. Watching them conduct their cutlery and cooking skills was something to behold. Clearly they'd done this a million times before. Sasha wondered just how often they got plastered in college and her overactive mind presented her with images of two strutting geeks in backpacks and nerd gear. She burst out laughing.  
  
Rhys was definitely displaying his hangover. Attempting to impress Sasha, he flipped the cooking goo that was supposed to be egg in a frying pan and wound up with it in his hair. Then he'd leaned on the oven with his human hand, forgetting very hot, very active burner ... He yelped and shoved his hand in ice. Vaughn almost kicked him out of the kitchen for good, voicing a very sincere worry that he might go and impale himself with a knife or something.  
  
Sasha was unwilling to submit to doing noting. She managed to scrounge up a tin of coffee grounds and went to brewing. By the time it was ready, breakfast was served. She didn't even have a chance to sit down: Rhys and Vaughn ripped through their share like ravenous, wild dogs.  
  
"What, did you have dormmates try to steal the food from off your plates or something?" she laughed, sipping her coffee in an attempt to prepare her stomach for what was coming.  
  
The two looked at each other. "Actually," Rhys began, "in our second year we managed to smuggle an electric grill into the dorm. They'd smell stuff cooking and come knocking."  
  
Vaughn looked sheepish. "It got so bad we started charging people for it. It was a pretty sweet gig until Rhys almost burned the building down."  
  
Sasha barked her amusement as Rhys, who tried to save his dignity by slowly wiping a crumb from his face and saying matter-of-factly, "It's not my fault it shorted out."  
  
" _Probably_ your fault for leaving it on when we were at class, though."  
  
"Well ... yeah ... there's, uh, there's that ... "  
  
Between giggles, Sasha bit into the sandwich. Her eyes lit up. "Holy crap, this is - "  
  
" - the Super Sammich!" Vaughn and Rhys both finished for her, raising their forks like it was some kind of superhero sign.  
  
She shook her head with a sigh. "Nerds. Both of you. Total nerds."

But hell if it _wasn't_ super. Each bite quelled that churning pit of hydrochloric acid in her gut; Burning eyes softened; Raging headache dulled to a stiff, dim bump. Chugging away what was left of her coffee, Sasha realized she didn't feel a third as bad as she did earlier that morning. Vaughn refreshed their mugs and Rhys offered her his trademark awkward grin.  
  
"Feel better?"  
  
"Surprisingly ... _yeah_."

  
"Told you. Master chefs Rhys and Vaughn can make more than buckets of Ramen noodles."  
  
"We did that, too. There's no _end_ to the crap you can make with noodles." Vaughn was already on his third java cup. "Cooked a chicken in the microwave once. That was _three hours_ of playing guard-dog so nobody'd make off with it."  
  
"We totally wrapped everything in bacon for a whole semester." Rhys gave a sidelong stare into nothing with a broad smile. "And the night before our _last_ finals we, uh, broke into the campus kitchen."  
  
Sasha's surprise bleated out as a crow call. "Wait - _broke into_?"  
  
"It was a computer lock." Vaughn thumbed his beard at the fond memories. "Rhys wanted to, ah, 'test' his programming skills. I think there was - what - five of us?"  
  
"Something like that. So yeah, they forced us to get rid of the grill - "  
  
\- "Under threat of expulsion."  
  
Nervous laughter. "Because of that ... so I may have ... uh ... " Rhys scratched behind his ear, his grin somewhere between shy and boasting. "I _may_ have scrambled their security system so we could ransack the kitchen."  
  
"We cleaned up good so they didn't know what hit them, but damn if we didn't deplete, like, half their food storage."  
  
It was refreshingly different to hear something about their lives from before Helios. Stories about a sly, scheming Rhys was _not_ something she was expecting. Where the hell were they when Fiona and her started conning? _These guys became Hyperion lackeys?_ She pointed to his arm. "Did you already have the cybernetic stuff then?"  
  
"I didn't _need_ 'em back then. Those only came into play on Helios." The mere mention of the space station's name came with a grimace, so Sasha pinched the flesh under his arm and giggled as he jerked back with a ticklish squeal. " _HA_ -hey!"  
  
"My ears're kinda _bleeding_. Rhys was a bad boy?"  
  
"Rhys was a man on a mission, _a man with a plan, **for food**_."  
  
_Plan ..._ Prodding him with a final ticklish assault, Sasha carefully diverted the subject to press on something more serious. "So hey - before we get totally sidetracked - what were you talking about upstairs?"  
  
He made mention of it again while they were cooking, so Vaughn was in the know. His smaller friend tuned in, curious.  
  
Rhys took a minute to collect himself. Dusting off his patched clothes and frowning as he reminded himself, yet again, that it wasn't his suit, he began, "I was thinking, uh ... that bomb ... " He cringed again.

The Commonwealth-wide destruction brought a slew of images to their minds. It was easier for Vaughn to cope with. He hadn't known any of the residents up top personally. But the shorter man could still see the suffering in the refugees' faces and gained an empathic sadness.

"It, uh ... look, something like that's gonna screw with the water, the land and - and who knows how many people are gonna get affected by it in the long haul? It's not just here either, I mean ... There's that crater down south, right? And probably a bunch of them scattered all across the world. What if ... well, uh ... Cassius and LB are working on linking up Pandora and Earth. We've got technology they don't have and they've got stuff we've never seen. Maybe we could mash 'em up and come up with something to distill all the radioactive residue in the atmosphere and oceans and whatnot."  
  
"We're programmers, Rhys, not scientists." Vaughn was hopeful but cynical. "But ... oh hey, Cassius is a geneticist, so that's something."  
  
"You've probably got some science-y types hanging around at the Helios base," Rhys added. "And there's a ton of them out here. You saw how many BoS people were working in that greenhouse. Plus, there's something we could try to find while we're out here that'll be worthwhile. Vault-Tec had this thing called a G.E.C.K. ... uh, Garden of Eden Creation Kit. They dished it out to specific Vaults. It's cold fusion technology that'll take radioactively contaminated land and make it fertile again. If we can get our hands on one, we could try to reverse-engineer it and, and ... " There was shining ambition in his eyes. Sasha found herself brimming with pride. " ... I mean, it'll have to wait until this whole Children of Atom mess is cleared up. We'd need a lot of help. Finding the G.E.C.K. means scavenging through a lot of old ruins and there's a _ton_ of bad stuff out there we haven't seen yet. And we'd need permission to use the facilities here, try to rope in some of the officials - Danse, Preston, Desdemona ... It, uh ... " Rhys paused, his face falling. "It might be a pipe dream but, ah ... "  
  
"I think it's a kickass plan, Rhys." Sasha placed a hand on his back. His cheeks flushed. "You know I'm in. For something like this you know most of the Commonwealth would have your back. Maybe more and, hey, maybe there's something here that could help Pandora too. You know it's ... it's a totally chartiable act, right?" Sasha was hesitant.  
  
But he flashed her a knowing grin. "Money isn't _everything_." Hearing that sentence roll effortlessly off of Rhys' tongue almost made her stop breathing. This, coming from the cyborg who at one time dreamed of being in control of Hyperion and rolling in money ... who once wanted to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor ... Tears damn near sprang to his eyes - no, wait, there they were. She wiped them on a sleeve inconspicuously. Rhys' gaze softened. "I meant what I said to you at the train station. Pandora doesn't need any more weapons or ammunition. For once, just for _once_ , what they need is something to better the quality of life for centuries to come, not something that'll just ensure they'll live a little bit longer until the next bandit gang or skag pack comes rolling through. Earth needs a hand too ... For everything they've done for _us_ it's the least we could do. But, uh ... there's two problems ... "  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"It'd mean I'd probably be ... sticking around here after everybody else goes back to Pandora ... " His eyes were struck with an absolutely terrified sheen. They didn't linger on Sasha long, instead turning upwards to brace for her response.  
  
His relief manifested in relaxing muscles as she told him, "You know I'm not going anywhere." She could almost hear his mind whisper, 'Oh thank god.' "What's the second problem?"  
  
"Atlas on Pandora. If we stay here and if we can convince Cassius to come, there'd be nobody to handle things at the biodome ... " He folded his hands in front of him, clasping them into fists. Rhys' leg started bouncing. Mismatched eyes blinked at Vaughn, the question lingering but not voiced.  
  
His shorter friend laughed. "You don't even need to ask, bro."  
  
"I knew I could count on you, bro." Fist bump. Sasha groaned.  
  
"I like where you're driving Atlas, and the Children of Helios would all be happy to pitch in. A little rooting around and I might be able to find you a scientist or five, as well." Something dark sported itself on his features. The corners of his mouth twisted downwards and his brow furrowed in some ominous, looming thought. "But bro, there's something I need to talk to you about. I wanted to bring it up to you before but with the whole Traveler thing it just kinda took a back seat."  
  
Whatever Vaughn was hinting at, it troubled Rhys and Sasha felt uneasy. "What's wrong?"  
  
The formerly bespectacled man locked his gaze with the Pandoran woman that held his friend's heart near and dear. "Sasha, I'm including you in this conversation. Since you two are ... you know, and you're part of Atlas now, it's only right to keep you in the loop." He leaned forward on the table, voice lowered. "It's about Jack."  
  
_____________  
  
  
"Jack."  
  
Cybernetic fingers clasped around the coffee mug. He didn't know they squeezed tight enough to splinter glass until hot brown liquid dribbled between the cracks.  
  
"Whenever we took over the old Helios base, we got hit with a bunch of strange activity." Vaughn leaned back in his chair, again reaching to adjust the glasses he no longer had. "We thought it was just falling apart around us at first: falling beams, walls caving in, crap like that. A bunch of the other Hyperions helped me set up structural supports but, uh ... they kinda just kept coming. Poltergeist-styled crap. Spectres of lightning popped out of walls. Monitors would spring on and shut off on their own. I even - get this - watched wires _move on their own_ and try to spark off a gas can we were using for one of the generators. It was _nuts_.  
  
"Yvette and I figured after a while that there was a virus or something on the Helios mainframe. We dug through the system, practically ripped it apart, until we singled out a single electrical presence. We managed to isolate it onto a storage drive, thinking we could analyze it later. Then that jackass of Vallory's kidnapped me and, well, the Vault thing happened and you know how that went ... But whenever you told us what happened after you crashed on Pandora everything kinda made sense. It was a logical theory that those electrical pulses were vestigal remnants of Jack's AI from when you plugged him into Helios."  
  
Rhys exhaled slowly. "Awesome, so you got him trapped on a drive and destroyed it." A pause. "You, uh ... you _did_ destroy it, right?"  
  
Vaughn's anxious smile made Rhys feel less and less confident. "I planned to. While Lilith was scouting between Earths, I went back to Helios with the _intention_ to crush the drive but, well ... it went missing, Rhys. I had it locked up tight with my own personal encryption on the safe and ... "  
  
His heart plummeted into the bowels of his stomach. Pricks of ice stabbed at his flesh. _"I'll be seeing you soon, Rhysie-boy,"_ Jack had whispered to him through his dreams. He _had_ been dreaming, right ... ? His palm was suddenly sweaty, his skin pale. Sasha must have noticed. She inched her chair closer to him and leaned against his cybernetic arm. Comforting though it might have been, this time it simply wasn't ebbing the tide of ominous teeth gnawing on the edge of his subconscious.  
  
" ... Yvette's the only one who knows how to break my code."  
  
"She was gone too, wasn't she?" breathed Rhys in defeat. He didn't need to see Vaughn's sadly nodding chin to know the answer.  
  
"But-But you _saved_ her life," stuttered Sasha, baffled. "Why would she - "  
  
"Shark tank." Those familiar words were used to describe Hyperion again and again. The phrase was never incorrect. Rhys pressed shaking fingers to the bridge of his nose as though the pressure would clarify the roaring thunderhead in his brain. He should have seen it coming. Yvette was still smug despite crashing on Pandora, despite losing Hyperion ... While everybody else was adapting to their new lives, she still wore her hair in that tight getup and sported the business dress-suit and walked with an air of superiority that Rhys secretly grew to despise. He thought she was just having trouble letting go - something he kept telling himself every time he felt her sneering eyes on the back of his head. "All the red flags were there ... and I ignored them."  
  
"She was a friend for a really long time, Rhys. You thought she just made a mistake on poor judgement and gave her a second chance. I mean ... look at me. I almost betrayed you too, bro, but you forgave me and look where I'm at now." Resting his bearded chin on his hands, Vaughn's exhausted groan reflected everything they were feeling. "I ... I would've given her another shot, too."  
  
He was so tired of getting stabbed in the back.  
  
Sasha's lips were on her cheek. It roused a tiny smile. "You've got us. We'll find her and the data drive, and we'll make it right."  
  
But what would 'make it right'?

Rhys turned his head to kiss the top of her head. He slowly pushed the chair out from underneath him to stand. "I know, I ... I - I think I need to take a walk."  
  
Sasha moved to join him as he strode off. Vaughn clasped her hand and shook his head. Rhys was grateful for Vaughn. Sasha's company was appreciated: she brought cofort and warmth to places that were cold and dark before. But he didn't think even _she_ could move the mountains occluding his throbbing brain now.  
  
A flash of blue hair slipped quickly out of sight to his right. Rhys paused long enough to watch where it had been, tension clinging tight. After several breaths he figured he was seeing things and kept moving to wherever his lead-weighted legs were carrying.  
  
_Handsome Jack's still out there._  
  
Main lobby.  
  
_Yvette's taken the drive._  
  
Advanced Systems.  
  
Images of Jack thrusting his arm through his own chest, effectively piercing between his ribs ... replacing his image with Rhys, Fiona, Nick, Vaughn, Piper ... Sasha. He didn't need a dream dictionary to know what that could possibly mean. The notion terrified him. Handsome Jack was capable of incredible and viscious feats when he was both alive and an AI. What could he pull off now? What would Yvette do with him ... ?  
  
Rhys found himself staring at a wall.  
  
Advanced Systems ... this was the Advanced Systems lab. The whole group of them - Athena and Janey included - found it during the previous night's tour. Scientists working inside were making weapons, tinkering with electronics and doing god knows what else. It was empty now. The usual inhabitants retired to bed a long time ago.  
  
He stood inside the firing range, head pressed against the wall. Several black char marks rubbed soot on his forehead. Diluted scents of smoke and burned electronics filled his nose; seared his eyes; fed that bubbling sensation in his chest and gut; spurred to life the harsh squeeze of phantom fingers against his throat and Helios was burning again, Hyperions thrashing in failed attempts to breathe in space, the fission bomb ripping over the Commonwealth, burning everyone alive, leveling settlements and he could neither bring himself to scream bloody frustration or wallow silently.  
  
Rhys was grateful for Vaughn.  
  
He didn't want Sasha to see him weep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Unlikely Alliance

**| LOG #1 - OCTOBER 23, 2087 |**   
**| LOCATION: SANCTUARY HILLS |**   
**| TIME: 14:37 |**

I woke up today.

I'm not sure if 'waking up' is the right thing to say. I was unfrozen and I don't even know where to begin. This is really, really awkward. How about this.

My name is Nora Gillespie. I was born before the war. Before the bomb. My home was right here once. All bright and shiny. Friendly neighbors, barking dogs, white-picket fences and trimmed grass. The whole shebang.

That's all gone now.

People are stupid ... A resource war ended at Anchorage not long ago at all. One military faction won - that was us, the Unites States - and the other lost - China. My husband finally came back home. The experience out there ... it changed him. He doesn't smile as often. Terrible nightmares.

But we have Shaun, and he's happy -

And there I go talking like nothing is different.

It is.

They dropped bombs.

I don't know who fired first. I'm guessing it was them. We pissed them off pretty badly after all. Nate and I ran with the baby, got to the Vault. They stuck us in these pods and said we were going to get decontaminated before heading deeper into our new home. I guess 'decontaminate' is code for 'go ahead and freeze us alive'.

Nate's ... Nate's dead.

I watched them. Not Vault-Tec. I don't _think_ it was Vault-Tec. This man with a scar ... these people in chemical protection suits ... They thawed us just long enough to rip Shaun from his arms and they ... they ...

I'm going to find him.

I have to find my baby.

Codsworth - oh man, Codsworth ... seeing him filled me with joy. Telling him the news didn't.

He said I should check out Concord. There were people there - beat him wth sticks before he had to run away. That doesn't make my pending visit sound any more appealing but if it leads to Shaun, then I need to do it.

I hope ...

Oh god, Shaun, please be alive ... please be okay ...

* * *

Several knock on the door jolted Fiona from her sleep.

"Avon calling!"

She bolted upright and instantly regretted her actions. The drumming in her brain and the churning of her stomach was worthy enough for a freeze-frame. Not moving didn't help. Fiona tasted bile in her mouth and fumbled with the dexterity of a newborn to the bathroom, struggling over the snoring hump in the bed that was MacCready. Whoever coined the term 'hugging the porcelain god' maybe had no idea how far into the future the phrase traveled and how accurate it still remained.

Whoever awaited on the door's other side couldn't hear her wretched heaves. They continued to pound with balled fists.

"Avon - hey Mac, c'mon man. We gotta be movin' in an hour!"

Fiona attempted to speak. Vomit was her language.

"Miss Cait, what in the heavens are you doing?!"

"Wha's it look layke, CodBot? We ain't got all day, now lessee ... "

"But ma'am, that's _clearly_ trespassing and - "

"But nothin', Codsworth."

A familiar ping and throttle of jostling tumblers met Fiona's ears when she stopped puking long enough to listen. She stared at the toilet's tank for a moment longer, waiting for last-minute voices of protest from the tumultuous acid in her gut. Nothing came. _Finally ..._ Flush away the troubles of last night and stomp into the ones of today ... Dizziness came washing over when she found her feet. The Vault Hunter managed to push her way through it, stumbling towards the door as something clicked and gave way and it opened vertically with an almost silent hum.

Fiona was glad she was clothed.

Two people strode in quietly, followed by a third who took small, hesitant steps and looked akin to a frightened rabbit. Fiona recognized none of them.

"So glad to be among fellow thieves," she told them ruefully, cocking her head on an angle. She was always the burglar, never the burgled.

He was the last man to enter but the first to speak up. Removing his bowler cap to press it to his chest, the man dipped his black-haired, mustached head low with shame written all over. The suit he wore reminded her of a butler. "I am _so_ sorry for their intrusion, ma'am. I assure you that I _tried_ to stop them but they simply would _not_ let me get a word in edgewise."

"We're 'ere for Mac." This came from a woman with fire-red hair and leather armor pieces together by bits of rope. Twisted rods of rusted metal splayed from her shoulders, elbows, and kneecaps. Green eyes looked Fiona over. "Sorry 'bout walkin' in on ya like tat. Ya look worse for wear - wha are ya, his bird?"

"Bird?" Fiona stared. Did it look like she'd grown wings?

"His lass, aren'cha?"

"Oh, uh - "

"She's a _fine_ lass with a fine ... mmm," the third and final member of the motley crew bent his ghoulish neck to look, very obviously, at Fiona's rear with his blackened orbs.

She responded with a quick-draw of Roshambo and a narrowed gaze. "Up here, zombie."

The Ghoul in the long red coat drew back with his arms raised ... at first. Then he laughed and stepped closer, lowering his defenses. "Look at that - a hidden gun! I like it. So, mm, what _else_ ya got hidden, darlin'?"

Fiona was addressed with a nod from the red-haired woman. "Ya could shoot 'im if ya'd like."

"Ohhh, I'm thinking about it. Trouble is deciding which head." Roshambo's aim drifted to the Ghoul's head, then to between his legs.

He ducked back and bent his hip around to keep the crotch out of sight. "Oh come on, you don't gotta be like _that_. 'Sides, if yer Mac's gal I ain't gonna risk a hole in my brain. Where's the big boy at anyway?"

"Sleeping." Fiona smirked and pretended to pop a round off at his manhood on him in 'good humor'. It was met with a shrill holler.

"Nonono, shoot me in the head, not there!"

"Sweet bebbeh Jesus, Hancock," laughed the woman while Codsworth cringed.

"Don't mess with the supplies!"

"Do Ghouls even _have_ functioning parts?" The Vault Hunter stuffed the puny gun in her sleeve before joining him. She careful brushed her hair back before grabbing her hat off the floor.

"When they don't _fucking get shot off_!"

He recoiled when Fiona extended her hand. Only when he noticed the distinct lack of a weapon did he return to his original stature. A lewd grin supplied his face and his leathery grip found Fiona's in a firm handshake.

"You're an _asshole_ ," he told her with a bark. "It'd figure Mac would find a chick like you. _Damn_ it, every time I lay eyes on a fine, attractive young lady ... " He whistled and rubbed his chin.

The red-haired woman cackled evilly, clapping his shoulder and giving him a rough shove. "Quit thinkin' wit' yer dick n' ya might find 'un." To Fiona, she added. "I'm Cait. This is Hancock an' Codsworth."

"Fiona," she introduced herself.

Cait looked at her strangely when offered an extended limb, choosing instead to breeze past her. Codsworth was more willing to enjoy the gesture. He bowed as he had when he walked into the door.

"A pleasure, m'lady!" He was too chipper and too well-dressed for their situation.

"Aren't you the Mister Handy Nora had?" Among the many stories spoken between their lot, Fiona was sure she'd heard some about a family-owned robot that used to live in Sanctuary Hills. "You don't look like a Mister Handy ... "

"Elder Danse had me changed into a Synth as per my request, ma'am. I might add that it's quite the thrill to have external appendages not equipped to carve and burn. Ah, legs! I always wished to exploit my love for music through dance!"

"So, you're a dancing robot?"

"Why yes! Madame Curie taught me how to tango just the other day. I must say, it's thoroughly enjoyable! And the food! Ma'am, I have never tasted my own delicacies before." He gave a robust, high-class laugh. Fiona thought he reminded her of John Cleese. "Or how terrible they were! Oh my, what I must have put Nora and sir through throughout the years. It's a small wonder she insisted on cooking!"

That attitude was infectious. Fiona was grinning despite her massive hangover.

It was about to get broader. Hancock climbed onto the bed, flopped onto MacCready, and pushed his face low to the mercenary's cheek to speak in honeyed, somewhat feminine voice, "Oh MacCready, it's Fiii _oooooo_ naaa. Won't you wake up with a _kiss_?"

Hancock puckered his lips ... and Fiona was surprised, and horrifyingly amused, when MacCready rolled over and met them. Their smooch lasted for a good minute (while Cait stifled her laughter with her hand, Fiona gawked with her jaw hanging wide, and Codsworth shook his head in defeat) before the former Gunner decided to open his eyes.

Hancock pulled away, showing teeth. "Hello, _sweetie_."

" **WHATTHEFU - !** "

Pillows and a blanket were thrown asunder. Hancock was kicked violently into the wall with one thrust of MacCready's vengeful foot. He flung himself out of bed red-faced and irritated.

"You _jackass_ , what did you - oh my god - ew ew EW!" Fingers combed his tongue thoroughly to remove the taste of ghoulflesh.

Picking himself off the ground, Hancock could not stop himself. "Was it as good for you as it was for me, smoothskin?"

" - ew ew ew, what the HELL is WRONG wi - are you high?"

"When am I not?"

"'E took a hit of Slasher afore we got 'ere," Cait explained apologetically, holding her hands in the air. "I tried ta tell 'im not ta, but ... "

"He insisted he wanted to get his 'head in the game' before our objective, Mister MacCready." Codsworth assisted the mercenary in finding his boots. MacCready stopped to stare at him for a good, long time.

"You sound like Codsworth."

"I am Codsworth, sir."

" ... No way."

"Yes sir! Elder Danse saw fit to have me be made into a Synth and I have to admit that it has been - " Before he could continue on his spiel, MacCready grabbed his hands and rattled them enthusiastically.

"You look _fantastic_ as a Synth, man! When did this happen?"

"Only for about a month, sir! But ... " Artificial eyes (humanoid in comparison to Nick's eyes and Rhys' prosthetic one) groomed over the former Gunner's disheveled appearance. "My, you _both_ look absolutely terrible. Might I ask why?"

"We uh, had a night of drinking." Fiona sheepishly rubbed the back of her foggy-brained head. "Me, Mac, Rhys, n' Sasha."

"Oi, those two? We saw 'em out in th' main lobbies. But they look a helluva lot better than ya, lass."

"Really?" Fiona was sure they would have slept longer than her for as much crap as they'd been through. She made a mental note to scout them out later.

MacCready wobbled where he stood. It was clear he wasn't feeling his absolute best, but unlike Sasha he didn't make a mad dash to the restroom. Green around the gills but with a stomach of iron, for the most part. He dug around for something to drink. Fiona picked a bottle of water from the dresser and tossed it his way. She received a nod in response ... then a groan as the movement stirred his stomach.

"You mentioned an objective, Cods?" he asked after several long gulps. "What's the occasion?"

"Danse sent some of his scribes lookin' for us this mornin - now don't go lookin' like that, pal. You were a righteous dick last night, and I know righteous dicks." Uncomfortable silence. Fiona and Cait sighed.

"To hell with Danse," MacCready growled. Emptying the bottle, he sat it down.

"Yeah, 'to hell with Danse'. Y'know I hate that asshole as much as the next gorgeous mutie. He had no problem pushin' Ghouls around - him n' the rest of the fuckin' Brotherhood. Hated _every last one of 'em_. We'd've been dead a long time ago if Nora didn't step up. But that same fuckin' asshole proposed an alliance last night between all the factions - _Railroad_ included. Ya hear that? That's holy shit material right there."

MacCready's face was unreadable.

"And, AND! Get this! I saw some of the new BoS recruits loungin' around last night. You'll never fuckin' ... holy crap, man, you'll never ... " He was laughing. Whether it was forced or genuine, Sasha could not tell. "He's takin' a fuckin' page outta the NCR book."

"I wish you would stop with the profanities, Mister Hancock."

"Fuck no to that, Codsbot."

Fiona could only look between the lot of them, confused. "What do you mean he took a page out of the NCR book?" But MacCready's face was transforming, expression astonishment where rage lingered moments ago. "What's going on?"

"He's taking up Ghouls, isn't he?" It was clear his head didn't have confidence in what his mouth was saying.

"You're goddamn right. Ain't nobody know pre-war technology better than pre-war people."

"Thar's a Super Mutant down thar as well," chimed in Cait. Her grin was disbelieving and her eyes extensively tickled. "One o' Strong's old buddies ... if'n ya can say tat ... when 'e was wit' Fist. 'E can speak clear like a human. Ah cinnae wait ta see 'em try n' put Power Armor on 'im."

MacCready held back and laughed. Pressing his fist against his forehead, he shook his head. "I'm still drunk and hallucinating all of this. Right, Fi?"

"Hate to break it to you, Mac ... "

"I'm ... da - ugh - _dang_ ... " He huffed. Riddled with perplexion, his eyes were spinning when he looked up again. "I'm still _angry_ at him."

"Ya gotta lot to be angry about, Mac. We all do ... But ya know what Nora'd say." A cheeky smirk later and MacCready had to chuckle his agreement. "Speaking of, that's our objective. We're getting her."

"I - what?" Fiona could hardly believe her ears. Neither could MacCready. His response was almost a mirror image of her own.

"There was some kind of chip in Nora's Pip that traced back to this place out in the Glowing Sea. It's where the signal came from that set the bomb off." Hancock made a face. MacCready hadn't seen that look in a long, long time and it still made him feel awkward. "An old Enclave base or somethin' ... Holy shit, I haven't heard that name in a while. Not since the whole Purity crap thing. Danse's positive that's where she's holed up at, so we're all goin' in." Bending his head, the revolutionary Ghoul leered at MacCready knowingly. "You gonna say no to that?"

The mercenary reacted in a tornado of activity - flitting to his gun, combing over his supplies ... Fiona started to join him but Codsworth held up his hand.

"My apologies, ma'am," slipped his remorse-laden tongue, "but the mission to find mum is our's and our's alone."

She felt unnecessarily irritated. MacCready's vexation only compounded the mood. "Why the hell can't I come?"

"She's handy as hell," the mercenary was vouching. "Good with a gun, badass lockpicker ... " Fiona felt flattered. Her gaze met her's and she was taken aback at the warmth spreading over her cheekbones.

"It's ... oh man, Mac, you _know_ how it is." His lamented sigh only given more grief with the tipping of his tricorn, Hancock sounded sincere. "Nora's been with us for the longest ... It's gotta be us, man. For as many time as she saved _our_ asses, it's gotta be ... Besides, we only got enough HAZMAT suits for you, Piper, n' Deacon. And nothin' from nothin' none of us know yer battle skills from a hole in the ground. We don't know how you'd react to some shit ... " Oddly white teeth flashed Fiona contritely. "Sorry girly. But don'cha worry - we'll bring him back in a big enough piece for you to snuggle - "

" _Hancock_." Cait's glower reduced the mayor to ashes.

"I'm _joking_ , goddamn! Look, we've always looked out for our own. He'll be fine." Spinning on the heel of his boot, Hancock took his leave. "Come on down when yer ready, Macaroni. We're leavin' in an hour so don't take long!"

Cait nodded to Fiona and followed out. Codsworth lingered just a little bit longer, uttered another apology, and vanished down the spiral staircase. It was just her and MacCready now. Storm clouds loomed over MacCready's eyes as he peered through the open door that was slowly closing. When he breathed it was slow and deep. Fiona took a step towards him. He didn't move or react until she gingerly touched his shoulder with a long, thin finger.

"Holy crap ... " So far-away in his own thoughts. MacCready must have been miles apart from her at that very moment. He didn't speak to her - he spoke _through_ her. "It's finally ... "

"You okay, Mac?" A perpetual haze was stealing her thoughts. "It's like you're in a coma. Standing up."

"Yeah ... yeah ... " Those orbs closed tight. She couldn't tell if he was on the verge of tears or withdrawing from pain. "It's finally happening. I ... I dunno how to react. I don't think I knew this day was gonna come."

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Hell yeah."

Fiona's mouth curled into a smile. "Then go kick some ass."

He looked down at her. His gaze shone with an inferno that could melt the whole world with its passion. The grin he returned was almost childlike, almost giddy with excitement.

"I'm sorry you can't come."

"It's cool, Mac." Teasingly, she added, "I'll just ditch you on our first Vault Hunt together."

Scoffing, MacCready made to leave but stopped. He turned to her fully, standing proud and stout and glowing with radiance she had not known before now. "Thanks, Fi ... for sticking around last night. I hope I didn't freak you out."

"Of course not," laughed Fiona heartily. "I'm ... kinda _honored_ , actually, that you felt you could trust me enough to tell me all that. Most women would."

"But you didn't."

She smirked. "Nope."

"Better not plan on it," he retorted. "I'd have to run off n' drag you back."

Fiona opened her mouth to make a joke. MacCready took the opening and moment of vulnerability to launch at her - merging lips in an earth-stopping firing of synapses and impossible heat that ripped the air from her lungs. It several light years from the drunken, innocent peck last night. She hung there limply, her longing mouth following MacCready's when his body pulled away eons later. He met her stunned astonishment with a sly mockery of the Cheshire cat.

"Gotcha."

"You sneaky bastard." She was neither hateful nor snide. Heaving her chest to catch her breath, Fiona wobbled backwards until she fell butt-first on the bed. "That wasn't fair. And I was a _con artist_."

"It was for luck," he winked. "And I think it just made me the luckiest guy on the deadliest planet in the galaxy. But, you know, luck runs out ... so I'll just have to replenish it when I get back."

Completely bedazzled and stricken with the wildest sensations not felt in several years, Fiona's fingertips dusted her lips as the frayed edges of MacCready's worn duster vanished beyond the automatic door. The room felt abominably empty without him in it, but the warmth in her chest filled the void of his absence.

"You son of a bitch." A bubble in her throat transformed slowly into a louder symphony. "You did it. You just fucking _went_ and ... "

Sasha may have discovered her blissful realization sooner - she remembered watching it spark into perspective when seeing Rhys for the first time in sixth months after the devastating assumption of his death - but Fiona would be damned if her younger sister was the only one to stoke the heart's unquenchable blaze.

She was laughing.

"You just fucking went and made me fall in love, you _asshole_."

* * *

"How did your negotiation go with Desdemona?"

In the past, Nick would not have been the type to strike up conversations with Danse. They kept their distance - estranged simply because one was a Synth and the other believed their kind should not exist. The tables turned upon Danse's self-discovery. But even then they were nowhere near as social as they were now, walking toward Advanced Systems in a massive group of companions who once traveled and fought together under one leader.

To his credit, Danse maintained a stiff-upper lip due to his rank. Compassion and sincerity rang heavy with each syllable, though. No venom. No sting.

"Desdemona was cynical, but that was to be expected. It took several long hours of conversation to soothe her long-lasting hatred of the Brotherhood." His sigh was heavy. "I will admit that it's difficult to remove my own misgivings, but what must be done must be done."

"Sooooo, her answer was yes, then?" Deacon was flanking him, keeping a distance. Past events made power armor something he was skittish about - seeing them usually meant danger and looming problems. The set Danse wore now was both impressive and intimidating. Solid steel with a glossy finish and standard Brotherhood of Steel schematics, streaks of indigo flashed across its surface in the cruxes of joints and blank spots in the torso. Emblazoned on the center of his back rested the Brotherhood symbol known across the globe: three gears upon wings, driven through with a sword.

"Yes, Deacon. To better demonstrate the Brotherhood's changing of ways, I introduced her to our recruits." They all gathered to have a look last night. Three Ghouls and one Super Mutant. "That seemed to drive the point home. Specifics were discussed, and insofar the Alliance has been formed. Minus one integral member."

Through the orbital sensors of his helmet, Danse picked up on Deacon's unwelcome expression towards the metal clanking about his body.

"What are - "

"Strong dislike metal men. Want to SMASH!"

"I feel ya, big guy," the Railroad heavy concurred. "Not so much on the smashing - a can opener would fit."

"This is precious Brotherhood Armor. It is not a joke, soldier, nor is it something to be opened with _can openers_."

"Whoah, Danse - it was a joke!" Nervous laughter not quite paying off, Deacon sheepishly shuffled in place. "It made a lot of us a little uneasy whenever Nora got into her's too. You gotta realize that stuff is a reminder of a lot of bad blood."

"Well, those times are over. So if you'll pardon the expression, I suggest you bury the hatchet and move on."

The face-changing man hung back a little, muttering to himself. "Jeeze, still a stick up your ass. Some things never change ... "

Piper was laughing.

They entered Advanced Systems and strode across the room. Battle-ready in stature and serious in demeanor. It drew the attention of many scientists working within. The workers stood at attention with admiration.

They were interrupted twice on their way to the door opposing Advanced System's entrance. First it was by MacCready, Hancock, Cait, and Codsworth. The former looked half-away and bedraggled, but his eyes shone with a tenacity that forced Danse to prepare for another verbal assault.

He did not expect the merc to call his name directly, spiel and all. "Elder Danse, a word?"

"Now might not be the time, Robert."

The mercenary again grit his teeth at the name. Danse noted that breaking his habit of calling people by their first names might not always be a good thing.

"I insist."

"I really - "

But MacCready stepped around him. Feet planted firmly before the Power Armor-clad man. His stature spoke of firm ideals.

"I _insist_."

Danse stopped. the rest of the group stopped. Cait and Codsworth joined the congregation. Hancock stepped behind Piper, slapped her ass, and was promptly socked in the jaw.

The Elder wished he could push the duster-clad man to the side and step on through the door. Instead he heaved an exhalation of carbon dioxide and watched through half-lidded eyes. Expectant of a fight. "What is it Rob - _MacCready_?"

Rocked somewhat by the change of referral, MacCready took a second to steady himself. His small chest filled, his muscles tensed, his shoulders squared ... and he spoke in a way that forced Danse to take a turn in being stunned. "I owe you an apology."

Terse quietness. Then: "Come again?"

"I owe you an apology. I ... I was angry - _furious_ and I still ... " His fists tightened into balls. "You've - You've done so much _damage_ in the past, caused so much heart ache and set in motion a lot of things that could have been stopped. And I _hate you so much_ ... " MacCready began to tremble so hard that for an instant Danse was aware he might actually try to fight him right here, right now. Nick and Piper stepped to either side of him with willingness to hold him back. But there was no need. Violent trembling stilled. Grit teeth relaxed, tightened fingers slowly expanding outwards. "Hancock told me about the Alliance. The changing of ways. Everything. And I can't help but think it's something that Nora would ... Nora would love. I think - I _know_ it's something I can get behind despite all that rage."

Lifting his hand towards Danse came with a struggle. He was visibly fighting the strain to withhold it.

"I'm ... I'm _sorry_."

Metal digits unfurled. They clasped around MacCready's, held them firm. Danse's voice was steady, unyielding. Behind his Brotherhood helmet, the Elder was smiling. It was something MacCready was likely never going to see.

"I accept, and I also apologize for all the grief I've caused." He shook the mercenary's hand with a rigidity showing his lack of experience in dealing with matters of diplomacy. Nora was so much better at it than him ... "It isn't easy ... It took me the entire evening to convince Desdemona of the Brotherhood's alteration. Those underneath have the flag have condemned and executed those who would stand against them or see things differently for decades past. In theory, our excuse was to eradicate the filth of the Wasteland and ensure the survival of pure human DNA. In truth, we were no better than the Conquistadors and Nazis of distant history. Our actions were no better than genocide, enacted in the devotion of something whimsical when the answer was staring us in the eye the entire time. I intend to change that."

MacCready's face read something Danse remembered seeing in a remorseful Haylen and a grief-stricken Nora. "Alright then, _Elder_. Let's go get your princess."

His lips were quivering. Piper, in the back, was scribbling away on her notepad. "This'll be a fantastic story to run ... "

Nevermind that her printing press was done for - probably smashed under tons of rubble. Her sister was going to be furious at the idea of making several hundred copies by hand ... but it was going to be a good prank to play on her.

Why write one news article over _one_ decent human event when there was bound to be heaps of it further down the road? The story could wait. By the time Piper found something decent to use for her newspaper, it might evolve into a hundred page epic that would bring salivating readers back for more.

Their second interruption came in the form of two Vault Hunters from Pandora - identifying themselves as Lilith and Maya. It was the fiery-haired woman who spoke. Her eyes were black with flecks of flame lining the iris - quite unusual for somebody who looked so human but proclaimed herself to be of a more sentient race.

"I'm coming with you."

"I'm sorry," Danse had told her. "That isn't an option."

"And _I'm sorry_ , but that's not going to change what I said." There was a fierceness in her voice and a fight in her stance that made it painfully obvious she was not hesitant to resort to fisticuffs. "You'll thank me in the end."

" **Citizen**." Danse locked his limbs and ironed his own vocals. His increased stature through the Power Armor, coupled with the above, would have been enough to make the sane man stand down. "Your spirit and willingness to add to the fight is commendable, but this does not concern you. I suggest you turn around and head right back out that door."

Piper raised her hand. The sudden motion made Lilith jerk her limbs in a way that screamed pending attack. The reporter ducked backwards. Danse, MacCready and Hancock placed hands on the hilts of their weapons. Nick stepped beside the reporter, unamused and staring down the woman with fire on her scalp. Curie and Codsworth hung back with fear in their eyes. Strong said he was hungry.

"If ... If I can point out ... Danse, these are Sirens. Our Pandoran friends were talking about them." She started her speech shakily. It grew firm with resolve the more she spoke. "They're powerhouses back on Pandora and ... anywhere they are, really. Special powers. Extraordinarily strong. I'd hear what she has to say before dismissing her like that."

Danse was not convinced. But as his frown went unseen, he conceded to the notion. "Very well. Speak. But be at ease. We don't wish for a fight."

Lilith did not ease. Maya frowned, her arms hanging limp by her side, and addressed the group with a nonchalant shrug. "She's a fire-breathing dragon. Asking her to calm down is kinda moot." She was shot an infuriated glare from her equal, fire flashing from her knuckles, and returned it with an unphased raised brow.

"I have reason to believe," Lilith told the lot of them, "that a Siren is behind whatever plot is going on here on Earth. Or stuck in the middle of it. Whatever." She brushed callously past members of the conclave, bumping shoulders without apology. Strong came shockingly close to attempting clobbering her with his massive fists. It took MacCready, Hancock, and Nick to quell his anger. "I sensed it when I first came here. Last night I felt a pulse - this sensation of distress. There's defintely something here. It can't be a coincidence that's happening in line with what you're dealing with right now."

"Sirens have a shared connection with one another," Maya explained. Her relatively cool demeanor was enough to alleviate only a portion of the tension sparked by Lilith's unnecessary irritation. "It's a little difficult to elaborate, but we can generally sense the presence of one. It doesn't necessarily mean we have pinpoint accuracy in detecting each other, but we're rarely wrong."

"Considering your, as well as the other Pandorans', presence here, I have little room to argue that you may be false. I will give you that luxury of the possibility you are right. However ... " He twisted his head, the helmet following suit. Not one did his gauntlet remove itself from the laser rifle - Righteous Authority - tucked at his side. "I fail to see why that means we should not only _trust_ you, but bring you _with_ us."

"Have you ever fought a Siren before?" When she was met with with silence and disagreeing bobs of heads, she added crassly, "Let me show you what we can do."

Her arms stretched out to her sides, fingers open and palms exposed. Glowing balls of fire spontaneously appeared in each hand. They grew in intensity, flashing from red to white and back again. In terms of size, they went from being baseballs to bowling balls to wrecking balls. Severe heat set off sprinklers and sent scientists running. Many of the crew drew their weapons upon her despite Maya indicating that probably wasn't a good idea.

It didn't matter. She vanished from sight a moment later. Nick's mouth hung open, his coat damp from the water. "Where did she - "

"Danse!" Cait screamed. She stretched a gloved finger to point behind the Elder. "Behind - "

But Danse could feel the flash of force and light and heat. It pushed him backwards, Power Armor rooting into the floor but unable to keep a hold. While the balls of inferno were no longer levitating between her fingers, fire raced along the floor in a circle, extending outward for several feet and vanishing just before they could touch the walls. It was a small wonder none of the Advanced Systems equipment was touched. It would all have been reduced to ash and rubble.

Danse unleashed his Righteous Fury upon her, leveling it with her head and growling, " _ **Stop this lunacy right now!**_ "

"I'm just showing you what we're capable of," smirked the Siren. Despite the outlash, Lilith stood as nothing ever happened. Granted she was getting soaked from upset sprinklers. They all were. "Still think you can handle us?"

"Red in the head, fire in - "

"Hancock, quit that shit," snapped MacCready.

Nick appeared less than pleased. He looked at Maya with a disapproving frown. "Your friend has some uncouth manners around people who don't want to stir a fight, Miss Maya."

"She's been like that since I've met her. Do you know how long it took to actually get close enough to _talk_ to her without getting a fireball lobbed in my face?"

Of course the only one appreciative of the display was Strong. He was clapping his bulky hands together. "Lady fierce - fierce like leader! _Fiercer_ than leader!"

It went without saying what their option was going to be. But it came with a resigned, extremely angry, " _Fine_ , but you'll follow _our_ strategy in battle. We have no room for freelancing - that is liable to get everybody killed. Do you understand?"

Lilith appeared ready to debate that, but she nodded curtly and placed a hand on her hips. "Until we find a Siren. _If_ we find a Siren. And then you'll have to listen to me."

"We'll see ... " It was difficult not to let his rage occlude his vision and speech. Man-made blood boiled in his veins. "And if you endanger Nora's wellbeing in _any_ way - "

" - we'll all come after you," MacCready finished. For once, the two saw eye to eye. For once, the entire group - excluding Maya and Lilith - nodded in unison.

"Goddamn these sprinklers ... Thankfully the computer are waterproof but ... Ah, there they go." Somebody must have reset the system. The deluge came to a sopping, dripping cessation. "Let's go ... We don't have an extra HAZMAT suit for you, Lilith. How will you manage?"

"Radiation doesn't affect me like it does you," was the only answer. She didn't elaborate despite queries pressing for more information. She swung instead to Maya, locking orbs with military-grade potency. "You know the drill."

"Of course, _boss_ ," sarcasm dripped in every syllable, especially tainting that last word. It came with a roll of the eyes, which in turn was reproached by Lilith. The blue-haired Siren took her leave in silence. Not even her footsteps were heard - only the ghostly whirring of the door opening and shutting.

Hesitation haunted the room, broken only by MacCready who stood at attention. "So ... what _is_ the plan? We just gonna relay in?"

"No, that would be a very bad idea," Danse told him. He motioned for the group to follow as he stepped through the entrance they'd been trying to get through for the past fifteen minutes. Sloshing water cascaded around their footsteps. "We're going in by vertibird. Two of them. And we're dividing into two teams."

The mercenary scoffed. "Right. Vertibird. How're you gonna get _them_?"

"Well, while you were getting _drunk_ last night, the Brotherhood was busy doing _work_. The relay is fully functional now. We have been able to scavenge intact vertibirds requiring minimal repair from Boston Airport."

"That's ... " There was an alteration in the Elder's tone of voice that MacCready genuinely never heard before. "Was that ... Did you just take a jab at me?"

The day was just full of surprises.

* * *

Fiona found Rhys and Sasha in the dining area. And they were not alone.

And they were definitely not with the type of people she thought they would be with.

The Vault Hunter slowed her pace, treading carefully until she was creeping up behind Sasha. Fingers fiddled with Roshambo's trigger, tenacious agitation mingling with apprehension. Her sister was sitting at the table with a bottle of Nuka Cola - having finally gained the courage to down a whole bottle. Janey was beside her, resigned with content to a cup of smoldering tea. Athena leaned against the wall next to Vaughn, crossing her arms as she always did while the Children of Helios' leader looked on with amusement. Rhys was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with a much more energetic and healthier-looking Dogmeat.

That was normal. She was expecting that.

Fiona was _not_ expecting Brick to also be on the floor, rubbing the belly of another scar-riddled dog and cooing. And she was _not_ expecting Mordecai to be sitting with her group, laughing at the antics of those on the ground. It hijacked her nerves and took them for a spin. She remembered all the hurts and pains caused by them. She remembered Athena getting dragged off. She remembered Janey's despair. And all she saw now was complacency - total calm. Why wasn't Athena trying to murder them? Why wasn't Janey losing her goddamned mind?

Why were Brick and Mordecai anywhere _near_ Rhys without putting a gun to his head?

He didn't seem concerned - not in the slightest. That coming from somebody who screamed like a girl when trouble came knocking. Disturbing - there was no other word for it.

Before she could help herself, the words were tumbling out. "What ... in the _hell_ ... ?"

Sasha's head snapped up. Her amber oculars lit up with amusement, first noticing Fiona's rough-ridden appearance - disheveled hair, wrinkled clothes, puffy eyes from still being half-asleep. That familiar smug smile beamed at Fiona knowingly. "Well look at _you_!" she jeered. "Have a _rough night_ , did you?"

Athena wriggled a brow in her direction, Vaughn was chuckling, and Janey laughed into her tea. Mordecai and Brick both stared at her - not laughing or smiling. The pressure was there. And it was felt only by them.

"Wha - _oh my god_." Rhys finally caught on. Dogmeat flopping into his lap, he burst into a fit of girlish giggles. "Oh, so it's okay when _you_ \- you know what? You've lost your right to bop me in the head - _tch!_ " He gonked out with a sharp _thwack!_ from Fiona's fist.

"THE HELL I HAVE!" Sasha was beginning to see why Rhys was unreasonably terrified of her sister. "Besides, it isn't what it looks like!"

The cyberman's head bent backwards. "I - I concede!" Dogmeat whimpered, licking his human hand. Rhys drew himself back up, acting as though nothing happened despite the red bump on his noggin' and scratching behind the German Shepherd's ears. "Oh it's _okaaay_ Dogmeat, the mean old witch isn't gonna - "

" _What did you call me_?" If Fiona had a serpentine tongue, it would be flitting in and out right now.

" - hurt me for real ... I, uh ... I might have to retract that statement." He fired off an innocent enough look to Fiona. Sharp, piercing eyes made him flinch back with an anxious laugh.

Sasha burst into a series of chuckles. It didn't last long. Fiona got straight to the point, glowering at Mordecai and Brick with an extended finger. "What the _fuck_ are they doing here?!"

Mordecai's cheeky, "Enjoying some down time, _chica_!" was not a valid answer.

"And why the _fuck_ isn't anybody **bothered** by it?! Athena ... Janey ... what the hell?!"

"To be fair, yer friend with the scars got her revenge already," Brick was distracting himself with the other pooch, wrestling with it and clearly not invested in the conversation. Looking a little harder, Fiona noted the red welts on their skulls and a somewhat victorious smirk lifting Janey's lips.

"I gave 'em assholes a what for," she explained with fond confidence. "Athena 'ad to hold me back from gettin' into a real scrap - it woulda been fun."

Fiona was struggling with everybody's apathy. She sought answers from Athena this time. The solution came in the form of a shrug. "We settled our differences a while back, Fi."

"They almost _killed_ us!"

"We _did_ say it was nothing personal," Mordecai corrected with a waggle of his bony finger. A fiery stab of Fiona's squinting orbs did little to sway him, though he did hold back and utter, "Damn, she's almost as scary as that Vallory _puta_."

Sasha and Rhys both shook their heads and slowly drawled a, "Nooooooo."

"A Vault Hunter  
Accepts their contracts without  
Asking why."

Arms were thrown into the air. Who needed skin when you could jump out of it? "Christ!"

Fiona didn't know Zer0 was there - and neither did anybody else. He appeared in thin air behind her, whisking past with all the embodiment of a ghost. Rhys squealed, doing a full rotation on his butt (unable to stand because Dogmeat made herself very comfortable where she was at), hands clapping together and he ... he bounced giddily. Adults shouldn't have crazy wide eyes like that. This wasn't an anime. " _ZER0_! You did - did you do the thing? C-could you do it again? _I wanna see_!"

What the assassin's face actually dictated behind the screened helmet was up for speculation. A cold sheen reflected blankly at Rhys. It didn't stay that way. Glowing winky faces were the new thing.

"There is  
A cooldown rate of two minutes.  
Will you wait?"

The answer came in several way-too-happy, grin-laden nods and, "Yes yes yes!" Dogmeat's muzzle twisted. She barked for attention. Rhys bent his head and was serenaded by several wet canine kisses.

Mordecai's eyebrows raised. "Oi, _this_ is really the new Atlas leader?" For his cynicism, the red sniper's vocalization cracked with pending humor.

None of them answered Fiona's question. Athena spoke her piece to cover the subject. "What Zer0 _means_ is that when we get missions - "

" **Got**." Janey's brown oculars flitted towards Athena. The Gladiator in question sighed ruefully, pushing herself off the wall to walk closer to the table.

"Right ... when we _got_ missions, we really weren't given a whole lot of information. Just 'here's what you have to do and this is how much money you'll earn for it'. Don't ask, don't tell. The quests don't clear from your que until they're completed."

"Lilith volun _told_ us to kidnap Athena," Brick began ... and the Pitbull he was loving on suddenly let out a massive yawn. Everybody drew back with horrified faces and slack jaws. Even Dogmeat was spooked. Her ears bent backwards, neck scruff and tail bristling, lips pulled back to expose sharpened fangs eager for tearing with a deep, threatening growl ... protectively rooting herself in front of Rhys and the table of comrades.

" _What the hell was that_?!" exclaimed Moredecai. He'd politely removed himself from his seat to perch on the tabletop, pulling his legs as far away from the ground as he could. Rhys joined him pretty quickly.

Fiona was dumbstruck. "That sounded like a damn Yao Guai!"

"What the _shit_ is a Yao Guai, _chica_?!"

Vaughn held his stomach with laughter.

"What the hell is so funny?!"

"The dog's name is _Teddy_ ," stated he. The Pitbull in question clambered to all fours with tongue lolling out and tail wagging furiously. "I get it now. Teddy like Teddy _Bear_!"

"Where'd it come from?" Rhys eased himself back onto the floor while Dogmeat, easing into a state of relaxation, stalked up to Teddy to touch snouts. Communication through flailing tails and slobbers had never been so cute.

"He rolled in with the people from Vault 111. Can't find his owner so they think they, you know ... This guy's like a mascot. The kids around here love him."

Playful growls and gently snapping teeth - the two pooches broke into a fit of energetic playing. Everybody watched until Brick tore his eyes away with sappy childish adoration on his battle-worn features. "I was talkin' ... What was I talkin' about?"

"Lilith hiring you," commented Sasha with a finger raised as if to make a point.

"Oh yeah - yeah! She might've volun _told_ us n' expected us to do it because we're from her crew, but when she _paid_ us it became an official Vault Hunter contract."

"That led to a whole new mess," grumbled the Gladiator with a twitch in her eye. Janey nodded her fervent agreement.

"Yer tellin' me, darlin'."

Growling discontent, Fiona couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. But there was significantly less bark in her accusations than there had been before. "That doesn't relieve me," she admonished.

Mordecai's sneer brought flaming ire to the surface of her blood. "Once you get started in Vault Hunting, girl, you'll see what it's like."

"We do kind of owe you an explanation though," Atlas catered to Fiona's stacking rage while sliding off the table. Synth optics focusing on her, Rhys continued with, "You really do look like shit by the way."

"I feel like shit." Sharing a grin with him, Fiona eased a little. Familiar conversations pieces from nights long passed. Strangely soothing.

"Hung over?"

"Terribly."

"Want a Super Sammich?"

"A ... what?"

"The best thing you'll ever eat." Sasha flashed a thumbs up. "He and Vaughn cooked some up earlier and it'll knock a hangover on its ass."

"We came up with it in college," Vaughn added. "It really works - you should try it."

But Fiona flagged him off. "The _smell_ of food is making me wanna throw up so ... thanks, but no." Taking in her surroundings, the newbie Vault Hunter took notice of Sasha and Rhys' clothes. They'd changed out of their traditional attire - probably to launder them - and switched into the Wastelander hooded jackets and faded pants. Everything looked good on Sasha. Fiona couldn't help but think Rhys' cybernetic hookups made him everything hipster. And those shoes ... She stared at the skag skin atrocities for a little longer than she should have. "Speaking of things that look like shit ... "

"Hey just because _your_ fashion sense - "

She cut his protest off with, "Explain." Nodding to Mordecai and Brick, she growled, "You two aren't off the hook yet."

"Maya overheard our conversation this morning," Rhys told her. "She relayed it to them and they just ... well ... "

"Lilith's a hothead," chimed in Brick. He was laying on his back, the Pitbull finished playing with Dogmeat and was now licking his face. He kept talking between laughs. "She ain't been herself lately. Roland's death really pushed her over the edge. He was a great guy - I really miss him - but ya gotta live and let go."

"Roland was the fourth member of our Vault Hunter crew," Mordecai went more in depth to make up for holes in the story. "A real _amigo_. Handsome Jack got his hands on him ... Killed my Bloodwing, too. And Hyperion killed Brick's dog - I ... probably shouldn't have mentioned that," he admitted regretfully as Brick burst into woeful tears.

They had probably been over this conversation a hundred times before, but Rhys still shot them something so filled with apology that Mordecai actually smiled his way.

"Yeah, we were totally game for gunnin' this guy down if Lilith gave the order - sorry man, you know that already. Boss says jump, we ask how high (most of the time) - but Maya was eavesdropping and told us everything. Gotta say it changed our minds _real_ quick."

"I'm missing something here," Fiona blurted, confused and irate all over again. " _What_ did she eavesdrop?"

Sasha's coyness evaporated into concern. She looked uneasily to Rhys. The cyberman shadowed it completely. "We're ... gonna stay here after everything is said and done, Fi." It was hard to discern her sister at tha given moment. That illumination slung across her body could have been concern or anger or ... anything, really. "I mean, it'd be a _temporary_ thing. We just wanna help them fix some stuff - get the atmosphere running properly again, fix the soil ... get rid of the radiation. You know, make the whole planet habitable again. Then it'd be back to Pandora, fix some stuff there and ... who knows?"

Fiona must have looked like a fish. Her mouth popped open again and again when no words could form. Then, "How ... why ... ?" Blinking at Rhys, he raised his hands in surrender.

"For what it's worth, I didn't force her into making the decision." His urgency in wanting to explain that indicated his fear Fiona was going to come down on him with a hammer. She didn't. Not by a long shot.

"Of course not," she said. She wasn't sure how she felt. It was fear. Not loathing. Pride? Piqued curiosity? "She'd follow you to the ends of the universe."

Sasha rubbed the bridge of her nose with a bubbly sort of mewl. Brightly burning ears told all there was to hear from Rhys. "L-Likewise."

Mordecai imitated a high school prep by shoving a finger down his throat. "Gag me with a spoon, _é_ _se_. Get on with it."

Of course. The Atlas CEO cleared his throat but the redness would not dissipate. He was glowing just as badly as Sasha was - Fiona hated to admit it, but it was damn adorable. She couldn't complain either. Not after that moment with MacCready. Not after feeling _exactly_ what was pulsing in their throbbing hearts right now.

"Right - uh - onto the-the whole ... uhm ... " _*Cough_ * "We're, uh ... There's a thing on on Earth called a G.E.C.K., made by Vault-Tec. They got handed out to most Vaults with the idea of kickstarting plant growth in the wake of the apocalypse. Some got functioning ones. Others weren't so lucky. They got mutant variants. Plant overgrowth. Spore monsters. Poisonous plants that produced lethal hallucinogens. It's touch-and-go. If we can find a _good_ one and replicate it several times over, we might be able to restore _this_ Earth to completely **normal** conditions again without threat of radiation poisoning. Gradually reset the ecosystem. If we can get Cassius, LB and maybe even Gortys involved we could probably make a version to scrub the oceans and atmosphere while we're at it."

Utter quiet. That was fine. They gave Fiona the time to process it. Fog permeated her head again. She rubbed at her eyes. "Oh ... ohhhh-kay ... I'm ... wow."

"It's kind of a lot ... "

"Yeah, no kidding ... " Sasha's absence for a few years after everything was said and done here felt ... incomprehensible. There was a caving in her chest. It was so far away - who knew how long they would actually be _rooted_ to Earth anyway? - but ... Gazes locked, sisterly affection shimmering as Fiona watched her. "Are you really okay with it, Sash?"

A glowing brilliance in her grin said it all. "We'd be back after a while, sis," she attempted to reassure her. "And you'll probably be off hunting Vaults anyways - time'll go by fast."

"We'd be bugging you for help on Pandora, as it is." The CEO was apprehensive. Dogmeat returned to him, bumping his chin with a whine. "We - uh - we've got a biiiiig problem to deal with back there."

That trepidation left Fiona nervous. Rhys had a kind of faraway look to him. Metal fingers lightly brushed his throat with a telltale grimace that sealed the newbie Vault Hunter's consternation with a flash of uncertainty and a gulp. She knew that gesture. She'd noticed him do it several times. The habit only started when they'd met again after being lost from one another for half a year, birthed from the memory of Handsome Jack assuming control of his arm and crushing his trachea until Rhys was forced to rip his own limb out in a gory mess of blood and wires and torn metal. Shadows raced across Atlas' human eye.

Even though she already knew the answer, Fiona swallowed hard and asked, "What problem?"

When Rhys opened his mouth, it came out low and unwelcome. "Jack."

Bitterness was the key ingredient in whatever chuckle slipped between clenched teeth. "Because nobody can ever just _stay_ dead, right?"

Sasha folded her hands beneath her chin, leaning forward and looking thoughtful. "Third time's the charm." There was a definite edge to her voice. While it was true enough that the sisters, and most of Pandora, harbored a deep hatred for Handsome Jack and the Hyperion Corporation, the way she watched Rhys' back made it abundantly clear that Fiona was not the _only_ one to notice his quirks. Back at the crashed Helios site, before Sasha and the others came in for the final battle with the Traveler, the newfound CEO admitted to having nightmares of the incident. Fiona wondered if he was still suffering night terrors now.

"So ... how did this happen?"

Vaughn stroked his beard. "I picked up unusual electrical activity at the Helios crash site and isolated it to a drive. I'm pretty sure they're remnants of Jack's AI. But it was stolen before I had a chance to destroy it ... and I'm positive it was stolen by Yvette."

Yvette. Fiona made a harsh noise. Punching her in the face back on Helios (when it was still in space) was one of the most satisfying things she'd ever done. Now she wished she'd socked it to her harder: broken the nose; smashed the skull; cracked the jaw. If it hadn't been for Rhys' moment of sentimentality (because really, he didn't have the stomach for violence unless it was necessary to survive), she would have gone down with the ship. Her body would have littered the debris field with bits of metal and broken glass.

It dimly occurred to her how eerily fierce her thoughts were. Fiona attempted to shake it off by shrugging her shoulders.

"What makes you think something won't happen while we're here on Earth?"

"I _doubt_ that. Those electrical signals barely had any power to them. It'd take some time to cultivate it. And besides ... " Vaughn turned his spectacle-free gaze to Brick, Mordecai, and Athena.

"If that _pendejo_ turns up, all of Pandora'd be after him." Mordecai wasn't smirking, but he spoke with such confidence that he didn't need to. "Gotta lot of Vaulties at Sanctuary still. Axton, Gaige, Krieg - "

"Tiny Tina," quipped Athena.

"Ha! Yea, Tiny Tina ... "

Fiona's chin dipped. "Who's that?"

"Don't you worry, pretty lady. You'll meet her eventually. And ya won't _ever_ forget 'er."

They were joined by yet another Vault Hunter. Pale skinned, icy blue hair and lipstick, a yellow and black jumpsuit with armor and ammunition packs strapped to her legs ... it was the first time Fiona had ever seen Maya in person, but not the first she had ever heard about her. Like Lilith, this Siren with an arctic demeanor was legendary - and very nearly the polar opposite of her fiery-haired counterpart in terms of personality. Brick was on his feet, scooping up and cradling Teddy. Mordecai jumped off the table. Maya stopped several feet short of them, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised.

"Lilith's gone," she said matter-of-factly. The Siren pointed an elongated forefinger at Rhys and Fiona noticed the pale blue tattoos running the length of her arm. "I'm officially your babysitter, Atlas. Don't play in traffic, wear a helmet, and bed-time by 9." A ripple of laughter erupted from the group. Fiona expected several things from the Siren. A sense of humor was not one of them.

"I really appreciate this, Maya," Rhys pushed himself off the floor. Sasha rounded the table to stand beside him. Everything about the two echoed grateful relief. "I like having a target on my back as much as I like having a hole in my head - er, wait ... " He touched the temple port. "That didn't work. Like having ... a ... a ... I dunno. Insert analogy here ... "

Athena bent over next to Janey and leaned against her. The mechanic rubbed a cheek against her arm. It was the first public display of tenderness in ... well ... _ever_. "Admittedly, you're the last person I'd expect to disobey Lilith's orders being a Siren yourself."

Maya sneered. " _Please_ , if I wanted to blindly obey every command without question, I would've stayed on Athenas." The icy Siren pivoted. It took Fiona a moment to realize she was being stared down - just long enough for Maya to break the distance between them. "So you're the new Vault Hunter?"

Rapidly blinking eyes displayed her innate surprise. Did word really get around that fast? "I ... _yeah_."

"Mordecai and Brick said you put up a helluva fight defending Athena." Maya gestured downwards. Fiona didn't expect the outstretched hand awaiting the clasp of her own, so she was hesitant to place her palm against the Siren's. It happened eventually. Maya's grip was unquestionable strong and the retired Con Artist tried to match it with her own firmness. "Welcome aboard. Can't wait to get to work with ya. What's your Action Skill?"

"My ... my what?" Over Maya's shoulder, Athena held up a hand and pointed to her wrist, mouthing the word 'gun'. "OH! Uh ... Roshambo." The three-barreled revolver jutted from her sleeve. For such a small-scale weapon, it definitely piqued Maya's interest enough to provoke a whistle.

"Oh, nice!"

Speaking of Action Skills ...

Zer0's helmet shined when it shifted. "Rhys."

The Atlas CEO jumped a little too quickly at having his name called by his new 'idol'. Clad in black and gray armor, the trained hitman did little more than stand in place. It granted a new brand of confusion from Rhys until Maya cackled and ran her hand through his chest. It went clean through. The hologram vanished, but the real Zer0 appeared on the side of Rhys where Sasha was not standing. Hello, Decepti0n!

There was no evidence suggesting Rhys was **not** the reincarnate of a hopeful, leaping, blushing and clapping Japanese schoolgirl. _Oh, Senpai!_ "THE THING!"

"Seriously, _this_ is Atlas?"

* * *

"Hold on, hold on - !" Rhys was clamoring, his feet catching on every little thing as he was unceremoniously pulled forth. "What do you want me to see?"

An hour later, Sasha was yanking the CEO by his chrome-plated arm as she raced him across the lobby and the spinning elevator towards the Advanced Systems sector. Vaughn was hot on their heels with Dogmeat. Janey and Athena retired to some place private. The Vault Hunters were bringing Teddy back to his gaggling audience of children under the guidance of a woman named Mama Murphy. When offered to join them, Fiona couldn't pass up the opportunity to get to know her future companions better.

Sasha's pace only slowed once they got to the first sliding door. When it opened, they were greeted with a very wet floor and several disgruntled scientists. The three of them held back in momentary shock, but Dogmeat had no problems with strolling right through the entrance on padded feet.

"What ... what happened here?" Vaughn stuttered.

A passing scientist with blond hair heard him and growled several obscenities under her breath. "This woman with red hair decided to 'show off' some of the stuff she could do."

Looks were exchanged. It was decided that Maya looking out for Rhys was probably the best thing that could have happened, considering Lilith was capable of this kind of destruction. The scientist was on her way. Everybody else was distracted with cleaning up and making repairs to damaged machines. Sasha slowly led Rhys across the room until they were passing through another door.

Unlike the previous room, this one was very dry and very ... empty. Mostly. One lone vertibird loomed before them in a space that could have housed several dozen more. It was almost a landing bay, but with no sky-bound opening. Several intricate, refrigerator-sized computers lined the walls with blinking lights and clicking buzzes.

"This place is _huge_ ," Rhys blurted.

But it clearly wasn't their stop. Sasha reluctantly released his hand and glided across the smooth, charcoal-gray linoleum. "This is _nothing_ , you'll see," she told him with a wink. Dogmeat bounded alongside her. There was yet another door at the farthest end of this room. In contrast to the other two, this one was locked: it did not open upon approach and was accompanied by a wall-mounted terminal with a dusty, blinking screen. Sasha ran her palm across it to clear it. Her fingers were on the keyboard. "Give me a minute ... or three ... I'm still rusty with this."

Rhys about choked. He was at her shoulder with all the expression of one who'd seen a ghost. "Are you doing what I _think_ you're doing?" He didn't really need to ask. Numbers and codes flashed across the screen at an alarming speed.

"I ... had a lot of free time after the Helios crash, so I started teaching myself some stuff." She didn't look his way, but her sardonic grin sent his heart into a racing tizzy. "Like I told you at Oberland ... little things to remind me, you know?" The terminal buzzed a rejection and she grunted. "Still can't - do too much - only novice level hacks and - " Another buzz. " _Damn_."

A metal finger tapped a word on the screen. "There."

Sasha clicked it. Acceptance from the terminal came in the form of a pleasant-sounding chirp, but it was not yet unlocked. Vaughn nervously looked behind them and hunched his shoulders, fiddling with invisible glasses. Rhys was reminded of how he used to be back on Helios. "Not that I'm like a lawbringer against hacking or anything ... but do we _really_ wanna be doing that with Brotherhood stuff? They're **pretty much** our hosts and I'm **pretty sure** they'd be pissed."

"Relax, abs," Sasha quipped confidently and Rhys tittered in swelling pride. "I bumped into this woman - Doctor Li. We talked for a bit. I not only got permission from her to use the workstation back in the main lab, _buuuut_ she also showed me this thing ... if I can get it - " _Type type type BING!_ " - open." Several command options displayed themselves. Sasha opened the door. "The computer automatically locks the door every time."

"I'm - I'm - uh," Rhys stumbled over his words. Burning ears and flushing cheeks be damned, he never thought he'd see the day where Sasha would be breaking into a terminal - _and it was hot_. Yes. He was definitely a nerd. "That was unbelievably sexy," he blurted and felt the crimson cover his whole face in the span of a heartbeat.

Her frothing laugh kept his cardiac organ skipping beats. "I knew you'd be impressed. But really, this is nothing - "

"H-Hey, don't be modest. We all started somewhere. To have learned it on your _own_ is ... !" Long limbs sprung around her and pulled her into a tight squeeze as he cheerfully proclaimed, "You're becoming one with the geek brigade!"

Without missing a beat, Vaughn chanted, "One of us, one of us!"

Sasha squirmed out of Rhys' grasp, but not before he could plant a kiss on her forehead. "If you like that," she winked, "then wait until you see _this_." She waved them inside the door. It closed behind them and locked.

At first they were greeted with nothing but darkness. One by one, lights on the ceiling illuminated an even larger bay ... and several huge things inside. To their right was a set of Power Armor, painted green and purple with shark teeth and eyes - Nora's old set. Further in the room, standing dead center, were much bigger articles. Large metal slabs. A series of steel stairs and platforms encircling something big (a quick gander would assume around 40 feet tall) and robotic and ominous being held up by steel cables on winches. It was both a marvel made from the modern man and a bucket of rust wounded from years of heavy battle and accidental damage. Such a state of disrepair: multiple joints missing along two limbs, one Tesla coil mounted on a shoulder with its sibling piece long gone, the torso a torn disaster ... Rhys and Vaughn stepped past Sasha, their mandibles drooping almost to the floor. Whatever it was, it was coated in a thicker layer of dust than the terminal outside. It hadn't been touched in a very long time.

"What ... ?" Rhys started.

" ... Is that?" Vaughn finished.

Even Dogmeat's act of chasing her own tail wasn't enough to distract them. Sasha stepped between the two awestruck men with hands on her tilted hips and a smug smirk. "The Brotherhood of Steel's trump card: Liberty Prime. Doctor Li says they dug it out of the airport ruins two years ago. Nobody's touched it since. She said if we really wanna tinker, we're more than free to have our way with it. God knows it needs it." Rhys' eyes met her's. A raging blush sprung onto her darker features. "We've ... you know, we've got some time to kill before we go G.E.C.K. hunting. This might be an interesting side project? I was wondering if you could, well, if you could ... teach me?"

Warm fuzzies filled his stomach. Rhys' couldn't agree more. "Oh hell yes."

"You've got a young protégé," Vaughn nodded.

" **But** this has to stay between us and Doctor Li," Sasha quickly interrupted. "Danse doesn't know Liberty Prime is here. If he gets wind anybody but the Brotherhood is touching it ... " Drawing a finger across her throat made the point clear.

Rhys barked a solid chortle. He should have been more opposed to the idea of fiddling with something that wasn't his property, but there was an almost intoxicating thrill to doing something just a little _bad_ \- and doing it with Sasha ... _teaching_ her, even. "We'll be so screwed if we get caught." A human finger touched his curled lips as he asked himself aloud, "Where should we start?"


	14. The Traveler and the Swamp

Returning Teddy to his rightful 'place' meant the Vault Hunters had to enter the bowels of the Institute ... which was surprisingly bright and cheerful. That wasn't saying much. The Institute was full of abnormally bright, clean, and white things - all of which sparked the sharpest contrast one could imagine compared to the Wasteland awaiting them above.

But this room was different.

The walls were covered in something other than blinking computer lights. They were decorated in cheerful children's finger paintings: all with a variety of colors and depicting different (often hard to discern) things. Plushies in both good and bad condition were strewn across the room in strange locations: some bundled in groups, others looming alone. Four of them were sitting down at a kid's table with fake cups and a tea kettle with the head's big bear wearing a very large top hat. There were extravagantly-hued soft floor mats and building blocks and toy cars all about the floor. Fiona came close to plowing into a plastic firetruck. She managed to sidestep at the last second. Hearing a kid crying over his smashed toy was the last thing she wanted.

Sitting dead center of the room was a single, very comfortable green chair. It held a very old woman with pale eyes and gray hair and eccentric clothes: a blue head wrap, obnoxiously large disc earrings; a blue coat with a fluffy red scarf ... This was the Mama Murphy she'd heard about. Seated all around her, some laying down and some with their legs crossed Indian-style, were children of all ages and colors. While all of them had switched their tattered Wastelander rags for something more befitting of the pristine Institute, several donned things kept as mementos from the topside ... a tattered hat, a beaten scarf, a ripped vest ...

Fiona saw plenty of adults in the Institute, but not many of them looked like the parenting type. How many of these kids lost their families from the five megaton bomb at Vault 81? She remembered seeing Sasha's dirt-smudged face for the first time, childish eyes harboring a deep sadness despite their youth. A deep pang stung her heart's core.

"Tell us a story, Mama Murphy!" one little girl called. She held a stuffed dog close to her chest. The broken watch used as it's collar stopped working a long time ago.

A myriad of voices chimed in with the initial demand. Excited faces were glowing. Fiona recognized at least five of them from the Vault - including the boy and girl that Rhys entertained with his cyborg arm.

"Just a minute, kids." Murphy's silver eyes lit up at the sight of Teddy.

The dog didn't need to be led to her or anybody else. He bounded excitedly towards almost every single child in the room and they welcomed his slobbery kisses and paw-prods with warm, bubbling giggles. If Brick's soft-side wasn't evident when he was playing with Teddy upstairs, it became clear now. Fiona could see a face-splitting smile mar his scarred features. She couldn't decide if that made him look benevolent or like a serial killer.

"Ya brought Teddy back." Mama Murphy's Boston accent was heavy like Piper's with a more aged feel.

"Yes ma'am." Manners, too! Brick's personality was getting three-dimensional. Mordecai smirked and shook his head. Maya didn't appear interested one way or another.

"Didja spoil him good?"

"Of course, ma'am."

" _Perro_ will eat anything you toss at him," Mordecai chuckled. "Ate a good heaping of beef-pudding. He'll be shitting all over the place later." Maya and Mama Murphy shot him a look. Realizing his error too late, the hunter slapped a hand against his mouth. "Ah shit - _oops_."

MacCready's unwillingness to curse made all the more sense now.

"Thank you for bringing him back," Mama Murphy held her hand out. The Pitbull found her, licking her fingers expectantly for crumbs. "Teddy's his own man, like Dogmeat. He goes where he pleases. But the kids, they love him. They don't like having him gone for long."

" _Teddy_!" chirped one of the dead-eyed girls sitting behind all of the others.

Fiona was watching the child a little more intently than she was planning on. The kid's face was solemn, distant ... and it was an expression she was sharing with at least four others. It was the look of somebody who was changing internally, evolving mentally, adapting to their harrowing situations with more of an adult mind than a kid-like one. Children who were growing up too fast. Children like her and Sasha.

Teddy's drooping ears perked. Padded feet pulled him in the girl's direction. He practically pounced on her with affection and a wagging tail. Fiona watched her eyes shift from darkness to light in less time than it took for the heart to beat.

Maya took a large step towards Brick and set delicate fingers about his thick, burly shoulder. The large man jerked at the sudden touch before realizing who it was. "It's fine, Miss Murphy. We'll be on our way now - "

"You could always stay for story time," suggested the elder. At Maya's oddly scrutinizing look, Mama Murphy chuckled. "I know you're a bit old for that, but the kids - a lot of them are ... " She hesitated. Fiona knew the word dangling at the tip of Murphy's tongue - _orphans_ \- and knew why the older woman declined actually _saying_ it. That fact was lost upon the other Vault Hunters. Maybe. Mordecai looked like he understood, but behind those goggles, who knew? "They could use some adult company. And a bigger audience is always better."

Mordecai appeared hesitant. Brick looked willing. Maya straight-up rejected the idea. "I don't really _do_ kids, lady ... ," she started to explain with disgust rolling on every word.

"I'll pay you. 50 caps a piece."

Ahhh, money: the universal language. Maya quickly changed her tune. She welcome the jangling Earth currency eagerly and sat amongst the crowd of kids ... keeping several feet between her and the nearest 'snot-nosed brats'.

"Easy money," she murmured happily to herself. A young boy scooted closer to her, his eyes set upon the soot-covered caps. Maya arched sharply in the opposing direction. "Hey - hey! Get your own!"

Mordecai gave a shrug. "Eh, why not?" Mama Murphy dumped caps into his and Brick's hands.

Like Maya, Mordecai kept his distance. Brick didn't appear to mind, even when a little girl, maybe five years old, crawled to him asking, "How'd ya get those scars, mister?"

Brick didn't hold back any details. "Well, it was me and my buddy against this gang of bandits. We were young, you know, and didn't have a whole lotta experience back then. So they ran us into this room 'cuz our ammo reserves ran dry and there we were, backs against the wall with thirty-something bandits staring us down with guns. And my buddy, he says, 'We ain't going down without a fight!' and pulls out a grenade. He pulls out the pin and charges 'em dead-on - "

Mama Murphy didn't look pleased as a series of very graphic details followed, but the 'Ooooh'-ing and 'Aaaaah'-ing group of young ones kept her from declining Brick his opportunity to wow them. Chaos was a part of life in the Wasteland. Many of the children already had more than their healthy share of violence already.

"Blood and gore's the norm for kid's these days," Mama Murphy told the approaching Fiona, her clenched fist filled with caps ready to vend into the former con artist's outstretched palm. "It shouldn't have to be. Some two-hundred years ago kids would go to school, do homework, and come home to board games and television. Mundane and boring, but _safe_. Now a lot of 'em are trained killers before their sixth birthdays."

Little Lamplight came into mind. "It's better for them to be used to defending themselves," Fiona responded with her mind heavy on MacCready.

The duster-clad man was etching his way into every corner of her thoughts now. She couldn't wait for him to be back, couldn't wait to hold him, breath in his scent ... Excitement at their pending Vault adventures together quickened her breathing. The heat in her chest became so searing and intense that it startled her back to the real world. Mama Murphy's arm was still held extended, silvery eyes watching intently.

"I mean," continued Fiona, pretending her petty daydreams hadn't happened, "it's a good skill to have. Everything's so dangerous out there. It's good to prepare them when they're young."

Like Felix ... pulling them off the streets and teaching them how to steal money from unsuspecting idiots so that _they_ could _eat_ and _survive_. Sure, there were other ways to live ... but it was the only way Felix knew how to get by. And it was one of the only things he could teach them with proficiency and confidence, fool-proofing their rudimentary methods and showing them new techniques each time he thought they were ready.

It was better than the alternative.

Fiona's gaze fell upon the dead-eyed girl playing with Teddy. She was part of a congregation: the other four children were grouped closely to her. They were so young, so fresh from the burning Commonwealth, and already they could pick out who was wounded like them, who felt the same pain they did ... Mama Murphy jangled the caps before her and Fiona started to reach for them. Her jaw tightened as their skin touched ...

She kept Mama Murphy's fist closed with the clamping of her own hand, denying payment with a disbelieving shake of her own head. Was she really doing this? Was she really _rejecting_ the easily-earned cash? Felix would be turning in sleep.

"Keep it. I'll go have a seat."

Flustered over her own stupid actions, Fiona turned to walk away. But fragile fingers found her arm and held her taut.

"Wait," Murphy halted her. Something in her voice made the former con artist's blood run cold if the cool iciness of the old woman's piercing gray eyes hadn't already. "I've seen you before."

A nagging itch behind Fiona's eyes demanded she get away, but it would be rude to rip herself from the old woman's grasp. It might just break the elder's brittle bones. "I haven't met you before in my life," she stated matter-of-factly. "I've only been on Earth for a few days."

Dry, pursed lips whistled. Mama Murphy's gaze was unconvinced. "The Sight. Months ago ... I saw you clear as day."

Now Fiona _was_ jerking her arm away. Mama Murphy's fingers fell away without resistance. From the corner of her eyes she could see Maya start to stand. "Lady, I think you might've taken one too many chems in your time."

"Maybe," tittered the old lady, unabashed by the accusation. "I used to take a lotta chems. Too much. Up until Preston forced me to clean up. They would give me the Sight."

"The Sight?"

Maya was on her feet, her expression uncertain and body tense. Should she advance and fight? Or should she hold back, see what was what? Fiona locked eyes with her briefly, shaking her head in a 'no'. The Siren nodded, but her position remained stoic. Mordecai stirred from his location but didn't move.

"I saw things while I was riding that high ... Visions. Pictures from the future. It led Preston to Sanctuary. It helped Nora find her son. It ... "

"You said you saw me?"

"Yes. You and others. Dredlocks ... a cyborg ... I remember the blue hair of this young woman here." Bony fingers gestured to Maya, who flinched backwards. "There were more, but it's been a long time ... I had this Sight right before I stopped taking Jet and Psycho altogether. That was some ... ten months ago, I think."

Fiona was intrigued. Curiosity led her. It couldn't hurt to ask, but why was her brain screaming so loudly for her to leave well enough alone? "What do you remember about us?"

"Great change. Some of it's already happened but there's so much more to come ... New life riding a tide of bullets and false smiles and sorrow." Facial features twisting from one struggling to recall a past long lost to one of somber realization, Mama Murphy held out her hand. Fiona grabbed it unsteadily. The way the older woman gingerly clasped and stroked it ... the way her eyes flashed from visions of grandeur to one of enduring sadness ... it left an empty feeling. "A great loss ... I'm sorry. Sorry for you."

"Sorry ... for me?" A great lump formed in her throat. Fiona was grateful for Brick's exaggerated stories. They proved a great distraction for the children. When Mama Murphy didn't respond, Fiona shook her hand. "Mama Murphy, you're sorry for me? Why?"

But the woman's head dropped. Her grip loosened, hand dropping lifelessly to her side. Maya was next to Fiona in an instant. They propped Mama Murphy backwards into the chair so that her head slung backwards and Fiona's fingers pressed against the older lady's throat. There was a pulse and her flesh was warm to the touch ... so why did her eyes roll back? Why was her mouth agape?

"Did she have a stroke?" Fiona asked aloud.

"I'm not a fucking medic," retorted Maya in a harsh whisper. "Try ... I dunno, try smacking her?"

" _Smacking_ her? Are you serious?"

"You have a better idea?"

"What about smelling sa - "

Mama Murphy's head snapped up so suddenly that Fiona launched backwards with an ear-splitting scream, very nearly tripping over several children in the process. Maya drew back with her hand on the hilt of her holstered gun. "Oh what the hell!?"

"What the what?" barked Murphy. Silver irises replaced the stark white sclera gracing them just seconds beforehand. She took in the scene with stark confusion. "Why are you acting like you've seen a ghost? We didn't already tell our story to the kids yet, did we?"

"YOU WENT AND PASSED OUT, YOU CRAZY OLD HAG!" Maya shrieked angrily, jabbing an accusatory finger into the old woman's face. "What was _that_ all about?!"

"Oh ... I did?"

"YES!" shouted the Siren again.

"Oh ... ah ... that." A gentle chuckle. Fiona and Maya didn't find what was so amusing about the situation. "I've been pretty hard on the chems in my younger years, kids - "

" _ **KIDS**_?!" Maya seethed. Fiona elbowed her. Mama Murphy had no way of knowing how old they really were. If they looked so young to her, wouldn't that be considered a compliment?

" - and it's been hell on me since I stopped. I black out sometimes when I try to remember things ... "

Fiona nudged Maya gently to the side and the blue-haired woman fumed with arms crossed. "You were telling me about a vision you had of me a long time ago. Do you remember what you were going to say?" Fiona should have been more concerned with Mama Murphy's wellbeing, but the vision about 'a great sorrow' was disturbing her gut. She didn't like the pleading tone of her own voice, but she couldn't seem to help it. "Please, could you tell me more?"

The only thing Fiona was given was a set of furrowed eyebrows and a pair of eyes that said, 'Nope, nobody's home'. "I'm sorry, girl, but I don't remember saying anything to you in the first place."

"But ... you ... "

Mama Murphy clapped her hands together loudly, earning the attention of all the children in the room and silencing Brick's tall tales. "Alright kids, story time!"

Maya retreated back to her secluded spot. Fiona hovered there incredulously until the clamoring of children began to drown out her thoughts. Maybe ... maybe the woman was nuts. _Maybe there was never a Sight. Maybe she just seized up or stroked out and was making stuff up as she went along ... Maybe ..._ But nothing led to the cessation of abysmal fretting tying double-knots in her stomach. She slipped back to where the dead-eyed children sat. Teddy had moved on to another child and nestled in his lap, tail flapping wildly. Fiona found an empty spot beside a girl and looked over the teddy bear she held. It was missing an eye.

"I like your bear," Fiona told the girl, who glanced down shyly. "What's it's name?"

The child responded with a low whisper Fiona had to strain to hear. "I call her Ma ... she helps me sleep ... "

Little brown eyes peered at Fiona from their corners. She smiled down at the child. "That's a nice name," she told the girl reassuringly. "I had a stuffed cat named Pop-pop. He chased away all the boogeyman at night."

The girl's chin lifted ever-so slightly. "Did he hurt his paw too?" Fiona noticed a stained handkerchief tied around Ma's arm in a makeshift sling and shook her head.

"No, but his tail broke when a boogeyman closed the closet door on it."

"Oh ... " Such a small, broken smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "That's sad."

"Naah, he was a tough cat. And it looks like Ma's a tough bear. I bet she protects you too, doesn't she?"

"Yeah! She fought a monster off for me! And - and it hurt her arm pretty bad." Puny arms squeezed the bear tight and cooed. "She's always big and strong for me. Like mama." Fiona felt her lips quiver. It reminded her too much of Sasha that first night they met ... holding onto that stupid ragtag doll and stumbling about in the alleyways, lost and bruised and bloody ...

She held out a hand. "I'm Fiona. What's your name?"

"Rachel ... " Fiona shook the littlest fingers.

"What story would you like to hear tonight?" called Mama Murphy over the choir of animated children. "A funny one? A fable?"

"A scary story!"

"Yeah, I wanna scary one!"

"Me too!"

A scary story? In the middle of the day with all of the lights on? Clearly some of these children had no interest in the lovey dovey tales of adventures - no knights in shining armor and the slaying of dragons. And it wasn't even Halloween ... or was it? Fiona only realized now that she had no idea what day it was.

"Okay ... " Mama Murphy breathed in deep. Idle, thin fingers played with her earrings. The children took this as a sign to quell their thrilled, loud voices and hush their neighbors. Brick fell victim to three kids resting against his hardened muscles. Mordecai and Maya sat quietly in their respective places. Fiona settled in, Rachel snuggling her bear close. "Okay ... I have one."

Another inhalation. Silence was Mama Murphy's only audience.

**"This is a ghost story ... _and_ it's a love story. It's about a man who loved a woman ... A man who thought the flame of their love could never diminish."**

* * *

There was something to be said about roaring over the Commonwealth in two large Vertibirds. It held a definite majesty ... an epic feel ... blitzing over miles and miles of scenery, well beyond the reach of bloodthirsty creatures wanting of their flesh, lingering high among the clouds with the landscape decorating the world below.

Or it would have been epic.

It would have been _beautiful_ , even.

But there was the crater that was once Vault 81 and everything that went with it: a glowing sky; singed trees; charred houses; blackened corpses; dark clouds overflowing with fallout; a barren, pocketmarked terrain. The once glorious skyscrapers of Boston had survived one nuclear attack already and could not survive a second blow much closer to home. Heaping piles of scrap metal and broken glass littered what was left of torn asphalt. Lamplights were uprooted, tossed asunder, intermingled with ripped chunks from pre-war vehicles and demolished turrets from raider settlements. The bits and pieces that didn't overload Boston's post-apocalyptic remnants had been thrown clear of the city itself. Whole walls, cars, and slabs of concrete wound up in the middle of the plains surrounding the city, drowning in the Chestnut Hillock Reservoir and the filthy river to the north.

Diamond City was no more. It was stripped almost to its foundation, the already crippled walls no longer able to maintain the weight as fire and force chipped away at its seemingly sturdy exterior. Trinity Tower was toppled. Goodneighbor was burned beyond recognition, its only sanctum being the Third Rail's entrance and even that was blockaded by fallen debris and a thick layer of radioactive substance.

Deacon's Commonwealth broadcast was a miracle. Had the warning reached citizens' ears just a minute too late and they would have ...

Piper grimaced. She didn't want to dwell on what could have been ... but it was there that her mind lingered. What would have happened if they were too late? If her sister Nat couldn't run away before the flaming shock wave thrust itself into existence by eradicating everything else? If Vaughn hadn't shown up when he did with the caravan? Even if it _did_ crash headlong into a Yao Guai, he still managed to get them far enough away to survive just long enough for Danse to relay them into the Institute ...

 _At least the fires are out,_ she thought bitterly.

Over the past two days, Danse's recon teams returned with news of intense infernos ravaging what the nuclear bomb hadn't incinerated on contact. The megaton's fission-fueled heat was so severe that it'd actually created a firestorm spanning in all directions. All that remained of the unnatural phenomenon were smoldering piles of what had once been, towers of pale gray smoke, and the occasional spotting pyre in its death throes.

Piper couldn't see what remained of Sanctuary Hills beyond the Charles River. The haze was too thick. She could only cross her fingers that their former safehaven got lucky ... After all, it was so much further away than Diamond City had been ...

There wasn't much to take comfort in. Even their HAZMAT suits declined any semblance of solace with the rapid clattering of spiking Geiger counters. The Glowing Sea had grown by several miles. Would RadStorms start forming out here, too? An eerie incandescent green looming on the distant horizon announced that they would be riding into one soon enough.

She drew attention back to her more immediate surroundings. There were twelve of them in total, split into two groups on two vertibirds. Danse insisted that the 'artificial' and more rad-resistant of them take the lead. He'd split Codsworth and Curie up. Those two weren't very proficient in fighting, but they could certainly help with healing and stockpiling supplies, so they were assigned with the technical title of 'Combat Medics' and dispatched as such.

But the placement of Lilith ...

The red-haired woman's claim of being immune to radiation was definitely going to be put to the test. She was the epitome of disinterest, leaning against a crate with tattooed arms crossed and thin lips crushed together in a sneer. Lilith demanded to be with the group taking point, but for once Danse put his Power Armored foot down with her despite the numerous death threats launching his way. He didn't know her. None of them did. Their trust of her ran as deep as a scratch in a concrete wall. When it became clear the Brotherhood member wasn't going to waver, Lilith relented for the _first_ time since they met her ... and only when several gun muzzles trained upon her.

Danse took Preston instead. MacCready tried to argue that he'd be a better fit, but tensions ran so high and trigger fingers were so twitchy at the moment that when the Elder glared at him, the mercenary quickly shut his mouth. _Another first,_ Piper thought with a chuckle.

So on that first vertibird, soaring high several hundreds of feet in front of them, was Danse, Nick, Preston, Codsworth, Hancock, and Strong.

Which left Piper with MacCready, Cait, Curie, Deacon (currently playing the role of pilot), and ... Lilith.

She must have been staring at the Siren. Llith's ember eyes launched onto her, narrowing with bubbling irritation. (God, they were so weird looking. Like Synth eyes. Black sclera with orange-red irises. Only these were natural and terrifying.) " _What_?" she hissed.

In her career as a newspaper reporter, Piper had been shot at, poisoned, tortured and very nearly raped. Nerves might have been honed, but it didn't keep her from jumping back at the unexpected startle. "OH - I - nothing, just ... !" Stammering wasn't saving her from the intensifying glower. She ransacked her brain for something to say. "Don't ... Are you sure you're gonna be okay with the radiation?"

"I'll be fine."

A simple answer from a not so simple woman. MacCready - or at least Piper assumed it was MacCready based on the figure's height alone (you really couldn't tell who was who with these suits) - shook his head at her.

"And if you keep staring at me, I'll gouge your damn eyes out. How's that?"

Shit. Piper snapped her head in the other direction. She was nonetheless surprised to hear Cait's voice snip from her position at the mounted minigun. "Ya keep talkin like tat and yeh liable to take a tumble from tah bird, y'hear?"

"You wanna say that again?" Lilith advanced with flames tipping her fingers.

"Ladies - " MacCready's attempt to jump in fumbled. Cait abandoned the heavy weapon to flex her arms and crack her fingers.

"Ya damn straight ah will - don't ya ever threaten one o' our own!"

Those fists were going to collide really, really soon if somebody didn't do something. Luckily the vertibird wasn't filled with people who liked to 'sit and watch'. Piper leapt to her feet, hauling a struggling Cait back. MacCready stepped in front of Lilith with his sniper rifle's scope trained on her forehead's center, grumbling, "Why do redheads have to be so _angry_ all the fuck - _urg_ \- time?"

 _"What's going on over there?"_ Hancock's gravelly tone strung along their HAZMAT suits' earpieces. Piper almost forgot about the built-in communication devices. Danse's crew must have heard everything that was being said ... _"Calm that shit down before I come over there and spank all of you."_

In the co-pilot seat, Curie's head cocked to the side. "Why vould 'e spank us?" Human etiquette was not her forte.

Deacon's laughter was terse at best. "Don't worry your little head about it, doll. Hancock's got some issues?"

"Perhaps e' should see a doctor?"

"I'm sure he'd love to _play_ doctor with somebody."

"I ... don't understand, Monsieur."

"I hope you'll never have to, Curie."

"We've got it handled," MacCready spoke into the comm.

 _"Good,"_ that was Danse - firm and humorless as always. _"Because we don't need to keep these petty squabbles going when Nora's life is at stake. Put an end to it._ _ **Now**_ _."_

"Sir, yes sir," bit the mercenary sarcastically. He turned his attention to Lilith. Fire still nipped at her hands. "I don't know what your end game is. I don't really _give_ two shi - _agh_ \- to **hell** with it. But we're a family here. And if you hurt my family, we will come down on you like a fucking wolf pack. Do you understand? Switch your bitch mode off. We get through this by pulling together, not apart."

The Siren's maw twisted into a snarl. "Don't talk like we're part of the same fucking team."

"You're on this vertibird with us, right? Going to the same place? For this very moment, _for better or fucking worse_ , you are one of **us** \- whether you like it or not. Still got beef when we're done? We'll settle it in a good old-fashioned brawl."

Staring contests could never last as long as those two glared at each other. But finally, Lilith relinquished her fight by snuffing the pyre licking her fingertips. She stepped back with an acidic chuckle that made Piper's blood curdle. "I'll hold you to that, _Vault Hunter_."

MacCready fought the urge to snap something rhetorical her way. Luckily for him, Deacon helped stave off the inclination by hollering from the cockpit. "We're crossing into the Glowing Sea now. Eyes down below! You see what I'm seein'? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure the Inquisition ended centuries ago."

A simple peer through the vertibird's open side shed light on Deacon's statement. Crucifixes forged from wood and steel jut forth from the earth's shoddy terrace - some standing straight up and some angled oddly depending on the ground's slope. And on every single one of them was a body ... some were old, gaunt with decay or pecked clean by hungry birds. Others were fresh, still alive - but just barely. Their movements were weak, their near-skeletal frames too frail to break free from their bindings.

"What the hell?" they heard Lilith exhale to herself. Even _she_ was a little perturbed by the sight, which was surprising to say the very least.

Piper's eyes raced up and down the scarred landscape. The Wasteland was harsh - atrocities like these, while completely abnormally, were unusually befitting of the Commonwealth (and the rest of the planet for that matter). The reporter could handle witnessing two or three occupied crucifixes.

But dozens lining up neatly in two rows, forming a grisly road leading to a single point beyond their vision's current reach?

"Does this feel like a Children of Atom thing to you?" Piper uttered.

Cait was shaking her head. "I dinnae know about 'tat. Crosses n' whatnot belong ta Christianity and Catholicism."

"The Children of Atom just believe in _Atom_ ," MacCready added. "No Jesus or anything like that. I don't think they know what a crucifix is ... To be honest, I don't think anybody on this side of the Wasteland knows anything about the bible." His scornful laugh gave away his exact sentiment on the subject. "There's no room for religion in this world. We've got enough hate and prejudice as it is."

Piper had to admit it ... she felt the same way. She nodded to the ghastly pathway laid out below them and tapped into the comm. "How much you wanna bet that it's leading us to where we wanna go?"

 _"The coordinates add up,"_ commented Codsworth with a bitter edge to his vocal pattern. _"I must say, I was_ _ **not**_ _expecting this."_

"None of us were. I don't like this ... It doesn't feel like the Children of Atom."

Nick Valentine took his turn to relay across the intercom, his typical _noir_ remaining the same shade of black it had always been. _"They could've changed their MO. Remember, it's been years since we've last seen them. And if not ... Stay sharp one way or the other."_

Piper huffed, breathing slowly to ease the rousing tension building in her subconscious.

 _"ETA in five minutes,"_ Danse announced.

It felt awkward grabbing her pistol with suited fingers, but it was the only thing that came remotely close to placating her trembling nerves. Rustling rubber all around her indicated to her that the others were feeling no better. "Showtime ... "

* * *

**"But it did. What had once been a dance had become ... a battle. They fought and fought ...**

**"In the dead of night, after angry words were spoken, he left their bed and saddled his horse. And she said to him, 'If you don't come back in three days, then you can never come back. Mark my words, I'll be gone.'"**

* * *

_[Hey, wake up!]_

She did.

And it was the first time she'd been allowed to remain awake for more than a few minutes.

Nora stared expectantly through the water, all the time waiting for an obnoxious pair of staring orbs to pierce through and watch her. Nothing. No movement. No people. No _nothing_.

Was she ... alone? Finally alone?

Blinking away surprise and bursting a few bubbles from her mouth, the Minutemen general swayed her vision carefully from one side to the next. Tweaking computer lights and gleaming screens were the only things awaiting her curious sight. There were no medics clad in rags standing at-the-ready by the tubes running from outside of the tube into her veins ... No Med-X was going to be delivered today. Not now at least.

But Nora was skeptical.

She gave it another five minutes before taking any form of action.

Still silence ... as much as she could hear through her liquid prison, anyway. That wasn't much.

 _Fuck it,_ she thought, and prying fingers went to work.

Nora first went to removing the catheters from both wrists. They gave way relatively easy, having been ripped asunder several times beforehand. Small wonder her flesh hadn't bruised. They'd probably pumped her full of Stimpacks too ... Minuscule spurts of blood clouded the water temporarily before being forced to disperse over a wider range. The fresh wound didn't ooze as readily as Nora feared it would.

Next was that thing in her gut.

Liberated hands roved towards the unusual device. She paused first, casting a wary glance about her surroundings. Nothing. Good ... Nora's fingers latched on either side of the _thing_ in her abdomen and gave it a sharp tug. Instantaneous, agonizing, _deep_ agony forced her to recoil with a gasp. A minute of catching her breath and collecting her courage and the woman was at it again, pulling it straight out instead of twisting it like she had the first time. While that seemed to do the trick, she was still met with white hot crippling pain that seared through her insides.

_What ... the ..._ _**fuck** _ _... ?_

One eye squeezed shut, the other half-lidded, she dared to glare at what was causing so much hurt. The abdominal attachment came equipped with a large bore steel catheter that was easily six inches long ... It didn't slip out easily. Nora encountered severe resistance as she yanked harder and harder, screeching her discomfort. She half-expected her entrails to remove themselves along with the device and thought with bitter amusement how crude it would be if this was how she was going to die.

Luckily for Nora, there would be no evisceration today. But hoooooleeeeh crap was there a lot of blood. She slapped a hand tight against the gaping hole left in her belly, groaning while lifting the device with her free hand.

It didn't take her long to find the crack in the tube ... the same crack she'd somehow caused the other day by screaming her infuriation at an all-too familiar face. Her captors never bothered to repair the glassy fissure. How would they, anyway? And Nora didn't waste any time feeling along its edge to make sure it was, in fact, actually _present_ and not a figment of her imagination.

She lifted the steel catheter up and pressed the sharpened tip against her enclosure. A muffled, watery _crunch_ satisfied her ears.

Nora pushed.

More crunching but nothing gave way. She tried harder and got more of the same.

Finally, Nora inched as far back in the tube as she was allowed to go. The bottoms of her bare feet touched the glass behind her. Knees bent ... and she thrust forward into the abdominal intruder, her body propelling as fast as the mystery water would allow it.

That did it.

The crunching became a splintering crack that grew louder and louder as deep gaps spiderwebbed their way across the tube. One more harsh nudge and glass was pushing outwards, off-color torrents of water surging forth, the translucent compound draining of its contents. Nora's weight suddenly became too much on the fragile container. She burst through without restraint, crashing through to the cold air and hitting the equally cold floor, her naked body sliced upon by dozens of broken glass shards.

Nora writhed there for a long while. Her own audible groans were the first semblance of human sound she'd heard truly and clearly in ... how long had it been? Years? Months? Centuries, maybe? The noises would have been refreshing if they didn't also coincide with horrendous pain.

"Ow," mewled her first words to the outside world. Nora's voice was surprisingly weak, if irritated. "Ow, fuck. Ow. Stupid bitch glass, _fuckcuntshitdamnit_!" MacCready would have been covering his ears. Codsworth would be reprimanding her use of colorful language.

She propped herself up on both hands - then one when the absence of flesh in her belly reminded her that it _wasn't_ absent of blood. Sharp glass assholes scraped her knees. Nora was fairly certain little bits of them embedded themselves in her feet. _Little shits._

Standing took considerable effort. Her legs wobbled, unused to physical exertion. _They're gonna have to adapt pretty damn quickly then,_ she mused dryly while wrapping her loose arm about her breasts in an attempt to keep her torso warm. Nora had no idea where she was, or if she was even alone ... but she had no intention of staying there for long.

Speaking of ...

She'd made an awful lot of noise. But nobody was coming running. That was a good thing, right? Strangely good news like that made Nora feel uneasy. Tiptoeing carefully across the wreckage of prickly booby traps and water, the general found her way to some kind of computer console and leaned against it. Dull aches and pains were making themselves evident. And she was still pretty fucking cold.

Where the hell were her clothes?

Chilly and bloody, her sorry state of being led to severe aggravation as she remorselessly ripped through desk drawers and cabinets and safes to find what she was looking for - something, _anything_ to cover herself up with. Enthusiastic curses filled the air (along with documents and various odds and ends) until Nora find came to a locked wardrobe. Without her satchel of goodies, the woman had no bobby pins.

That was fine. She made do with a pin and a screwdriver.

When that didn't work, brute force did the trick.

Prying open the first drawer allowed a gleeful laugh to erupt from her parched throat. "Oh baby," crooned the lady, exposing her nude chest to wrap damp fingers around a familiar black and silver outfit, "how I've missed you. C'mere, smoochie-poo."

Nora started to dress but froze. What good would donning her garb be when she would bleed right through it? Bandages. She needed bandages. Maybe a needle and thread, too ...

She counted herself fortunate that whatever group owned this facility was keenly aware of their own mortality. Nora's habitual roving earned her several first-aid kits, a roll of twine, gauze, and a fishing hook. That last ingredient was a bit unsavory, but if it worked, it worked ... She made sure to soak it in alcohol first, regardless. Nobody had yet to break into the room. Nora hoped she would be left undisturbed for just a little while longer. Getting served a jumpscare while stitching up an open wound would be ... well, _messy_.

This wasn't the first instance of patching herself up, but it didn't hurt any less if you did it one or a thousand times before. She painstakingly disinfected the injury as best as she could. Then she poked and prodded with the hook and twine (while cussing between gritted teeth) until the hole was sealed. Blood still dripped through the seams, but it was an improvement compared to what _had_ been flowing.

"No _fuego_ , huh?" muttered Nora in disappointment when all her scavving didn't turn up a single flip-lighter. "No cauterizing. Okay, that's fine. I got it. I'll live." She applied a Stimpack for good measure. The smaller cuts gained from broken glass began to heal.

Applying the dressing and rolling the gauze didn't come with as much satisfaction as it would have if it had remained _clean_ , but the crimson seeping through was minor irritation. At least her clothes wouldn't get soaked.

It was time to be grateful for the little things. Namely, the Silver Shroud attire. Nora may have still been sopping wet, but donning the clothes definitely enchanted her with the bit of warmth needed to rejuvenate groaning muscles. There was nothing wrong with simplistic black tee-shirts and pants. The belt was equally plain (or it would have been, if not for the ammunition case and the sheath where her sword should have been). A little more time and effort was placed into carefully equipping her gray combat armor chest piece, forearm and shin guards. She pulled tight her fingerless gloves, thrumming at the feel of them against her sensitive hands.

The silver scarf that went with her gear was gone. Nora did some digging and opted for an overly long blue tie. It hung loosely around her neck. Bopping it with a finger, she quipped, "It looks kinda sexy, in a tomboyish sort of way."

Boots came next: black like everything else with external steel plates protecting her toes.

And there was the jacket ...

Oh, the _jacket_ ...

It still smelled of smoke from the last time she'd worn it sifting through all that junk at the Prydwen wreckage. Honed from black leather with silver seams and buttons of the same color, it draped well past her knees with frayed edges that had seen one-too-many combat scenarios. Still, Nora had made sure to take the absolute best care of it that she could. Bullet holes and cuts were always patched up immediately. The only modifications she'd presented to the long Silver Shroud coat were the two small curved plates of silvery steel meant to guard her shoulders from blunt injury.

There was no sign of the fedora. Ah well ... she was never really fond of it anyway. Nora tugged the jacket tight and went back to rummaging. Now where the _fuck_ was her sword? She didn't like being unarmed. Not here. Not in a war-torn land overrun with monsters. Not in some mysterious building which used to hold so many peculiar onlookers but was now seemingly abandoned ... Nora despised the notion of being snuck up on with no way to defend herself. But these people didn't even have a _flip knife_ laying around.

Seriously, there was _nothing_. All the cabinets, all the drawers, even the wardrobe ... _empty_. Even the few functioning computer terminals, once hacked, held no tidbit of useful information for her to gnaw on for a while. Why? Why did they split, leaving nothing behind but some filled first-aid kits and her clothes?

Did they expect her to get out?

Or did they evacuate?

And where the actual _fuck_ was her Buzzkill?

Too many goddamn questions, so little time ... Nora popped the jacket's collar. A quick dig around her pockets rewarded her with a scrunchie. She used it to tie her wet, long, more-platinum-than-blond hair into a ponytail. Teal eyes spasmed about the locale. Goosebumps rushed her spine: why did she feel like she was being _watched_?

_[Probably because you are.]_

The sudden female incursion lead Nora to plug fingers into her ears. **So loud**! It sounded so close - **too** close. And there wasn't a soul around ... not a body for the vocals to be coming from ... Intercoms? Nora checked for a PA system, speakers, _anything_ but found not a one.

Even if she did, it wouldn't explain why the statement appeared to resound _in her head_. "Who's there?" she snapped, reflexively reaching for her serrated Chinese official's sword and grimacing when she remembered it wasn't there. "Show yourself!"

 _[I couldn't if I wanted to.]_ Again, definitely in her skull. Nora gave her head a rough shake, rubbing her temples with vicious roughness. Did she knock her noggin' on something on the way out? She didn't _remember_ hitting the hard floor with her cranium, but then again couldn't you lose your memory if you hit it hard enough? _[Relax. You're not suffering from some kind of brain damage,]_ the woman speaking tried very hard to sound reassuring. It had no effect on Nora. _[Look, I'm not gonna hurt you. I mean I could do_ _ **a lot**_ _of damage from my standpoint but - ]_

It probably wasn't a wise idea to headbutt the wall, but it was all Nora could think of. She retracted with a grumbling, "Owee ... "

The voice was agitated. _[What are you d - quit that, will you?!]_ it barked when Nora went to ram a second time. _[Do you really_ _ **want**_ _to be a vegetable that bad? Because if that's the case, I can handle it right here - ]_

Something _ping_ -ed in her brain. Nora smacked herself involuntarily in the face. "Hey what the - "

_[Ah, wrong nerve. How about this one?]_

Her left knee swung violently backwards. She would have crashed to the floor if she didn't manage to catch herself first. "Quit it!"

_[Will you stop doing stupid shit and listen to me?]_

"Fine! Fine ... Where _are_ you, exactly? Are you, like, remotely controlling me?"

_[No. I'm actually_ _**inside you** _ _.]_

Serious situations be damned, Nora couldn't help but crack a grin. "And you didn't even buy me dinner first?"

_[Oh my god ... ]_

"The wine _did_ taste kinda funny now that I think about it ... "

_[Will you just_ _**shut up** _ _?]_

* * *

**"Still angry ... Still angry, the man rode away. And he enjoyed the solitude. The noise of their argument was replaced with the soothing sounds of the forest."**

Maya fidgeted uncomfortably. Fiona watched her expression contort from one of concentration to one of unsettled anxiety. She was the only one to notice ... Brick and Mordecai, along with the children, were caught up in Mama Murphy's tale. Rachel leaned against against Fiona's side unconsciously and for the sake of the little girl, the former con artist didn't want to move suddenly. So she kept watch on the blue-haired Siren, concerned.

**"But after just two days in the forest, he grew lonely. He was filled with regret."**

* * *

Danse landed the first vertibird without a problem. The second one came down gently with Deacon's guidance. Again, no issues there. Well, actually there were several ... He nosed down a little too deeply, came down a little too fast and the list went on and on. The Elder started to rebuke the Railroad heavy before reminding himself for the umpteenth time that they were not, in fact, trainees for the Brotherhood of Steel. These were not his soldiers. They had their own private quirks (many of them he disapproved of, like Hancock's chem addiction or Piper's innate desire to jot everything down ... ) and he would just have to make do with it.

Nora had put her faith in them more times than he could count. He would have to, as well.

Waist-deep in the Glowing Sea. All around them were beckoning howls of monsters itching for some kind of fight or free meal. A Glowing Deathclaw's tail disappeared over the mountain ridge to their left. Mutated Bloodbugs swarmed over a bubbling lake of radioactive goo to their right. Directly ahead of them? A pack of Feral Ghouls, lead by a Reaver with lethal-looking claws.

Their first miracle of the day was that none of these beasts were drawn in by the vertibirds' whirring rotors. The second miracle would be if they were able to close the half mile between them and the Enclave base without detection. Danse raised his hand to issue the gesture for stealth mode that he'd shown the Brotherhood Squires. The groups already beat him to the punch. Even Lilith, for once, wasn't acting the part of a fool.

They passed through the RadStorm on the vertibirds as it moved northeast to what remained of Diamond City. It provided an ominous green backdrop to their advance now, ominous thunder cracking far away but still causing a few of them to jump.

Danse took point of the first group, lumbering ahead with his bulky power armor and toting Righteous Authority. Preston and Codswroth flanked them. The second crew followed a minute later, lead by Deacon and tailed by MacCready and Curie. Snipers to the back, heavy forces to the front. Save for Lilith. The Siren was just wherever she wanted to be at this point, but at least she had the good sense to remain with her designated group (and not fight over it a second time).

Clearing the distance to the Enclave's irradiated base was easy when following a pathway forged from corpse-holding-crosses. Most of the victims were long dead, and those that weren't moaned petulantly but were on their way out anyway. Nick cut a few of them down with the idea of mercy. They fell like sacks of dried meat and paper-like bones, breaking into lifeless heaps the instant their lithe forms met hard earth. If they weren't dead before ...

Their only incident was an encounter with a pair of Giant Radscorpions. Strong dispatched them both with a single mighty swing of his monstrous warhammer made from rebar and concrete. Deacon was the only one willing to rip their poison glands from their stingers.

"What? Syringer rifle ammo and antivenom, guys. You gotta get the merchandise while it's hot."

"You need Nightstalker blood to make antivenom."

"That's what trader caravans are for."

Alarm bells should have been ring-a-ding-dinging when they found the headquarters. It definitely was _not_ as snazzy as they were expecting but hey ... take the most beautiful hotel in the world and slap it against a full-blown nuclear bomb, and it was bound to get a little mucked up, right? Still ... it should have been a little more glamorous than the rusted metal monstrosity they were greeted with. Clearly it had seen better days even before the war ...

MacCready cocked his head. _"You sure we didn't make a wrong turn somewhere?"_ he blipped through the comm.

 _"This is where the signal was coming from,"_ Danse responded, tapping the Pip-Boy around his left arm. The strap had to be extended to better fit his large Power Armor. _"And this is where the bodies lead."_

 _"Not all roads lead to Rome,"_ quipped Nick. Like the other radiation-resistant folk of the group, he wore his communication device in his ear. _"Be prepared for the worst."_

 _"When aren't we?"_ Hancock mustered with a grin. He gestured to the door with dual pistols. _"Lead the way Granny. I mean Gramps. I mean Elder."_

Danse was probably staring daggers, but he humored the middle-aged Ghoul by entering the facility first anyway.

It was the duty of the second-coming crew to maintain watch by the entrance while the first group, the scouts, surveyed the area. When one minute turned into ten and there were no sounds of a struggle, Deacon opened the door a crack and peered in. "All clear?" he called, forgetting to use his comm.

"Strong is not happy!" howled the Super Mutant from the back of the room. He casually launched something from a shelf. It shattered on the opposing wall. "Strong want to fight. No fight here. What is point of COMING?!"

"Come on in," Preston called in a muffled voice due to the HAZMAT suit. "There's ... there's nothing here.".

It was a warehouse. Nothing more. Nothing less. Several cargo boxes were strewn about, pied on top of another, broken or haphazardly left ajar. Danse was ripping through one of them, his agitation displayed in the form of tearing teddy bear heads off of their bodies and flinging the stuffing out into the open in a display of toy limbs. "This isn't ... this _cannot_ ... "

There were other toy animals, too. Codsworth found himself staring at several oversized gorillas, each roughly six feet in height. He shuddered despite his synthetic programming and artificial sense of fear. "My god, what child would ever want one of _those_?" He looked over his shoulder placing a slender hand on his bowler hat as if it were about to be whisked away. "Where is mum in all this?"

"I think we were duped," mumbled Hancock. "It looks like a shipping warehouse for some major toy company."

Disappearing deeper into the cargo box, the Brotherhood Elder screamed his anguish and slammed a steel fist into the container's wall. Piper took a step forward with a hand outstretched, have never heard this level of anger emit from the normally stoic man. "Danse ... "

"He _does_ have emotion," commented MacCready, his voice equally unsteady. Fingers clenched into fists. "No ... _no_ , we can't just _assume_. How many places did we find that turned out to be something totally off the wall? Maybe there's a secret entrance somewhere."

Lilith was leaning casually against a wall. Above all things, this pushed MacCready's rage to new limits.

"Oh, so you're all gung-ho on blowing us up earlier but you're too self-righteous to help us look around _now_?!"

The Siren shrugged. "We're not getting shot at and there's no urgency. Plus, I don't think there's a Siren here." Regardless, fingers drummed against one arm impatiently and one leg was bouncing.

"What the hell - you said - "

Deacon raised a hand. "To be fair, she _did_ say she was looking for a Siren. Not Nora."

"Shut _up_ , Deacs."

"I'm just saying!"

But Curie was pointing a finger past them. "Zat is unusual, no?"

There were at least two unusual things behind them.

Positioned on the ground in a circle a little farther back into the warehouse were plushie monkeys with little cymbals. That wasn't so much as weird as it was creepy. Those monkeys were notorious for going hand-in-hand with booby traps.

Then there was the painting on the wall - a long landscape scenery depicting houses surrounded by woods and white picket fences, with chipper families and laughing children and barking dogs ... It kind of made Cait vomit a little in her mouth. "Ugh, tat's too cutesy for me."

"No," Curie jabbed her digit again. " _Above_ ze painting. Look, eet's a light."

"There's probably a hidden button somewhere. I'll take a look." Nick approached cautiously, eyeing the monkeys with wary glowing orbs. "Eugh, I hate those things. So ... eerie."

Hancock took the incentive to remind him that, "They hate us, too. Avoid 'em, Nicky. You know those things're usually traps."

"I know, I know."

He sidestepped the ring of monkeys, but he didn't miss the tripwire set to the side in case somebody outsmarted the 'obvious' trap. Nick was so intent looking for _lasers_ that he didn't notice the trap made from ordinary fishing wire until it snapped with his ankle's touch and the floor opened below him.

* * *

**"He wanted to return to the woman he loved, and he wanted to return to the life that he missed.**

**"So he found a shortcut through the woods and he took it. He was desperate, _desperate_ to get back to the woman he loved before it was too late. Her threats rang in his head. Would she wait for him or would she be true to her words? Would she be gone?"**

* * *

Nick struck the ground hard and for the millionth time in his life, the Synth detective was glad he didn't have fully functioning lungs to be winded.

Still, his pain receptors registers an ache in his back and agony in his left leg. A piece of metal in it must have twisted - no - as he felt with his fingers, the leg must have been _lobbed off_ from the impact. It was too dark to see where the emancipated limb landed. The light from the hole above him would not be enough to illuminate his surroundings. "Damn it."

"Mister Valentine, are you quite alright?" called Codsworth from above. His voice reached Nick with little distortion. At least he wasn't far down.

"Well, if you see a robot leg, save it for me, will ya?" he hollered back.

"I'm comin' down for you, Nick. Just sit tight!"

"I can't do much else."

MacCready was looming over the edge. With Danse's help, he tied a rope around his waist and was slowly dangled over the hole's edge.

Sensors picked up motion from his room. Nick spun, hand on his pistol. He switched to night-vision and then reminded himself that he'd never actually signed up for that upgrade Nora offered him so long ago. It would have come in handy now. But he could definitely see lights - several of them, in fact: small and blinking reds, greens, and blues.

 _"Holeeeeeh crap, I was starting to think Maxson was off his rocker."_ It was harsh and masculine, coming at him from all angles. _"Guess he knew you bandits better than I thought he did!"_

Robotic fingers drew the weapon from its holster. He wheeled it around the room, unable to see his target - and not able to move out of the way too well in case it came at him. "Who's there? I'm warning you - we're all armed and we _will_ shoot!"

"Who the hell are you talking to down there, Nick?"

 _"Oh man, this is hilarious! What are you, some kinda private eye? Or are you an old timey gangster? 'Put your hands in the air, see! Or we'll blow you to smithereens, see!'"_ Wild laughter filled his ears. Something shifted behind him. Nick spun on his rear, nudging himself backwards and away from the noise. _"I'm really loving the whole 40s theme! The only thing that sucks is there's no rock and roll. Plenty of bandits, though. That's gonna have to change."_

"Careful comin' down, Mac. There's somebody else here."

"Are you sure?"

"Can't you hear him?"

"Hear who?"

_"Nobody can hear me but you, buddy boy. Electromagnetic wave transmissions. Finely tuned for you cybernetic types. So hey, robocop, riddle me this?"_

A tap on his shoulder and Nick jerked his head in that direction.

_"Did you have a rough trip falling down the rabbit hole? Because it's about to get a lot deeper."_

A sharp pain stabbed its way into his foramen magnum. Nick's body jerked forward, dropping the pistol in the process. Waves of blue electricity arched up his body, wrapped around his limbs, strangled his neck and slid upwards towards his eyes ...

Then nothing.

Metallic fingers probed his own face. They traced slowly around his eyes, over the tattered pale flesh surrounding his cheeks and mouth, over the slenderness of his frayed lips. He could feel his own smile, curling wider than it ever had before.

"Oh yeah," Nick's expression-splitting smile cracked wide with a voice emitter too high to be his own. "The king is back, baby."

"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about ... whatever you're enthusiastic about," MacCready commented. He dropped from the ceiling with the rope still tied around him. "I guess? Where's this guy you said was down here?" The mercenary produced a light - the headlamp from Danse's Power Armor was evidently removable. Glowing brightly, it revealed nothing to their surroundings but several computers - now inactive with no more blinking lights.

He should have noticed the lack of dust, MacCready's attention to detail at this very moment wasn't up to par - or he would ave seen the slivering wires and metallic port slithering quietly back to their hibernating positions. "Nothing, kiddo. I must've smacked my head."

The light shone on Nick's face. He retracted from the glowing. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"Your voice." Concerned caution edged MacCready's questioning. "You sound different."

Nick cleared his throat. "Must've - ah - knocked some servos around," replied the detective with his typical noir tone.

"And you called me kiddo."

"What's wrong with 'kiddo'? I was just trying it out."

"Yeah, well, _don't_."

"Message received."

After a long few seconds of silence, MacCready must have accepted the odd events. He began to scour the room's floor. "Alright, Humpty Dumpty, where'd your leg go? We can explore when you pull yourself together."

"Just ... let me handle the assembling part. You're liable to put it on backwards, Mac."

* * *

**"He could feel his horse losing speed ... as if it wouldn't make it through the night."**

* * *

"So why are you in _my_ head, exactly?"

_[There weren't any heads around quite as empty as yours.]_

"Oh. Hah. That's adorable. I'll remember that," she bit back sarcastically.

_[Well, it was meant as a joke. There's so much stuff in here. I mean, seriously, do you even_ _**believe** _ _in filing cabinets? I can't sift through all these memories chronologically and you have them all strung around and it's a hideous_ _**mess** _ _in here and - ]_

"Good lord, you sound like an office worker."

_[Well I was. Once.]_

Nora should have been several times more concerned with a voice speaking to her from where her brain should have been, but after waking up from 200 years of slumber to find talking zombies, this kind of thing had a semblance for normality she wasn't accustomed to.

 _Just accept it and it'll go away. Or it won't._ Truth be told, she was grateful for any kind of company right now - even if it entailed talking to herself for the time being. It definitely kept her endless search through the seemingly empty facility entertaining.

Nora tried plenty of doors and they all led to the same mass of computer rooms and test tubes, all of which were drained and now lay empty. Had she been the only one experimented on, or were there others that were just ... moved away?

Fingers danced across terminal keyboards. All encrypted (she made short work of that), and all cleared of useful data. She smashed her fist against the last one, frustrated. "This is totally fucking _useless_."

_[Well, not_ _**completely** _ _useless. I can definitely see you're an adept hacker. No cybernetic augmentations required. That'll make things a little easier.]_

"What do you mean by that?" Nora removed her hand and shook the pain away. The keys left little indentations in her flesh under the glove. Unwilling to surrender without finding _something_ , she tore through more drawers until two shiny objects gained her attention . _Well that's unexpected. I thought they cleared out all their weapons? Maybe they forgot these ..._ "Hooray for frag grenades!" She pocketed them. "You've been pretty vague this whole time. And you still haven't answered my other questions."

_[Which was?]_

"Why. Are you. In my head?" It came out a little more acidic than she meant, but Nora didn't switch her tune up. "How did you even get in there? And on that note, who the hell _are_ you anyway? You don't sound familiar."

 _[We've never met. I'm not even from here,]_ stated the disembodied voice. A sharp jolt of electricity zapped across Nora's meninges. She found her legs spinning of their own accord, directing her to the one door Nora hadn't dared to approach. _[If you go through there, I'll get more in depth. I promise.]_

She gulped. Honestly she had been avoiding that door. It was the one she'd seen the hooded man enter and exit so many times before. If going through it meant a fight was on the way, then ... "I don't have a weapon," Nora admitted tersely. "I can't fight hand-to-hand. I suck at it."

_[You won't need a weapon.]_

"You don't know that."

_[I do. Trust me.]_

"How can I trust somebody that won't even give me their name?"

 _[Dear god -_ _ **okay, fine**_ _, you want my name?]_ Nora imagined a woman frustratingly throwing her arms into the air. _[It's Yvette. Okay? Yvette. Will you go now?]_

The general's grin split from ear to ear. "See? Now was that so hard?"

_[Will. You. Go. Now?]_

"If you tell me how you got in my head."

_[No deal.]_

"Aww."

Like a ventriloquist, Yvette only had to tug on the right set of nerves to force Nora's legs to move. The movement was rigid at best, so the general took over her own body for the venture. _[I aid I would tell you when you go through the door. Is it so hard for you to follow commands?]_

"Well, when everybody and their brother tries to screw you over, it gets a little **difficult** to take some people at face value." Thoughtfully, Nora added, "Especially when you can't see their faces in the _first_ place. What do you look like?"

_[Do you ever_ _**stop** _ _asking questions?]_

"Not habitually, no. So seriously, what are you? Human? A Ghoul? Some kinda hyper intelligent Super Mutant? Or are you, like, some disfigured old hag?" Instant regret. Yvette forced Nora to slap her own face. "Ow. Okay so the 'hag' guess was spot on?"

_[_ _**Human** _ _. More or less. And fairly young, thank you very much. I'm probably your age.]_

Nora stopped in front of the door. It refused to open - locked. Good thing she still had that the pin and screwdriver. She went to work. "I'm 238, for your information. Give or take however many years I was in that the back there."

_[Two years.]_

"Only two years? Damn. That's good. Okay I'm now 240 years-old. Now back to that 'hag' statement." Another smack. Nora groaned. "Will you quit that?"

 _[Will you stop calling me a hag?]_ the voice asked irritably.

"To be fair, I was _asking_ if you were, not _calling_ you one." She caught her remote-controlled raising arm with her free-to-move-as-she-pleased one. "No. Bad Yvette. Bad."

The woman with no face or body growled, _[You're driving me up the wall. I'm 27.]_

"You were right, then," mused Nora as she undid the door's lock with finesse, storing the ever-useful screwdriver and pin in her jacket's pockets along with the two grenades. "About the age. I was 27 when I got locked away in Vault 111."

_[And married with a kid, I see. Husband was a war veteran, just coming back from Anchorage. Right?]_

A harsh chill threw ice into her veins. Nora grit her teeth. "Could you not go prying into those memories?"

_[Oh ... was - was that a sensitive spot?]_

"Very."

 _[Oh, uh, sorry.]_ To her credit, Yvette sounded genuinely apologetic. It made Nora feel slightly better. She didn't want to think about Nate: not about the bullet that ripped through his skull; not about the wedding rings, looped through a silver chain around her neck, ripped away when Maxson fought her on the Prydwen in his final stand. _[I'm, uh ... I figured since I was sent here, I might as well get to know who you were a bit before I send you on your way. There's a lot here, you know.]_

"You could just ask me," the general responded while striking a button on the wall with a little more ferocity than was necessary. The door opened vertically. It was dark inside. "I'm more or less an open book."

_[That would take way too long. It's quicker and easier for me to just zip through what you've got here. And, wow ... I kind of feel guilty now.]_

Guilty? "Why guilty?" Nora lingered hesitantly outside the doorway. Yvette didn't allow her to hover long, forcing a shuffling gait from her - and the general found herself resisting subconsciously. "I thought you were helping me out?"

_[I am. And I'm not. It's a little difficult to explain.]_

"Well I'm in the room now, so you'd better get started." Motion-sensitive lights blinded her. Nora withdrew partially, shielding her wounded eyes with her arm. Hands balled into fists and ready for some kind of fierce encounter, she relaxed when the room's contents became clear to her. It was a simple setting. Circular. Not large at all. Large metal plates armed with four lights and camera lenses surrounded her on all sides. It look strikingly familiar. "It's ... like the relay room at the Institute."

_[Exactly.]_

"Are we _in_ the Institute?" Was this some elaborate welcome from the Brotherhood of Steel's remnants?

 _[Far from it. Think a little closer to home.]_ The statement simultaneously puzzled Nora and left a foreboding, creeping feeling in her spinal column. _[You kept your end of the bargain, so I'll keep mine. I'll tell you as much as I can before I cut you loose.]_

Cut her loose? Was Nora being freed? It didn't feel right.

"What are you?" she mumbled.

_[Like I said, I'm human. Kind of. Augmented, though. I guess you could say I'm a ... Siren now. Sort of. A hybrid. I don't know.]_

"What's a Siren?"

_[Long story, not a lot of time. Here's your basic definition: they're people with special powers. This is mine. I can enter a person's head, fiddle with their thoughts and bodily controls. Kind of like a virus.]_

"Are you doing this remotely? Like, you're broadcasting from somewhere else?"

_[Didn't you already ask this? I'm literally in your head right now.]_

"So if I shake my head - "

_[Yeah,_ _**don't** _ _do that. And don't worry, this isn't a permanent set-up. As soon as I'm done here, I'll be out of your hair - er - head. no long-lasting repercussions or anything like that. Anything else?]_

Nora looked behind her at the empty room. Once upon a time there were people sitting in there, watching her. "Where are they? The Children of Atom ... I mean I'm pretty _sure_ they were the Children of Atom. I recognized those rags."

_[They were issued an all-clear order from their leader and evacuated.]_

"Why'd Isolde evacuate them?" She was one of the few 'friendly' Children of Atom members she'd met, willing to point Nora in the right direction so long as she didn't tread upon the cult members in the Glowing Sea. That was a long time ago, back before she could break into the Institute at all.

_[Not Isolde. She's long dead.]_

"Dead?"

_[A lot's happened since you've been under. The Children of Atom are under new advisement now.]_

"From ... ?"

_[Some faction from the West.]_

Nora remembered the face she'd seen when she was last conscious. It nibbled at the back of her brain and she heard Yvette gulp as though she knew the question before it was even worded. Which she probably did. "What about Maxson?" The name was like a hot razor. "I saw him. I thought he was dead, but he was definitely here."

 _[Isn't that the way it normally goes for villains?]_ Yvette's voice was different. Edgier. Definitely fearful. _[Look, I can't talk much about that stuff. They're listening. And they'll be calling me back soon, so before I send you off - ]_

"Hold on! Why was I here? What were they doing to me?" Gloved hands found the wound in her abdomen. It was cold to the touch. Clearly the dressing was soaked with blood now. She could almost smell the iron. "Two years in a tube - what was the reason?"

She was met with more hesitation. _[You'll find that out soon, too. Now listen. When you find Rhys, tell him I'm sorry, alright? This isn't what I signed up for. I wasn't expecting this.]_

Platinum eyebrows furrowed. "Who?"

 _[And when you get out there, be aware of everything. They're going to try and push you over the edge. Manipulate you. Don't believe them. You have to try and keep contro - ]_ A petulant, pained gasp rumbled past her eardrums.

Nora hissed. No amount of holding her head would ease the sharp daggers plowing through her skull. "Hey, Yvette, you okay?"

She didn't like the silence. Nor did she like the sensation that her head was still occupied.

"Yvette?"

Still nothing. Nora heaved a sigh, weighing anxiety in with the other options befalling her. If this was a functioning relay station, it would take her anywhere in the Commonwealth. She thought of Diamond City, Goodneighbor, the Institute (had the Brotherhood of Steel set up shop like she'd arranged? Was Danse there too?), the Railroad HQ, Sanctuary Hills ...

She settled for Diamond City. While her duty as a general designated her to report immediately back to the Minutemen headquarters to alert them of her wellbeing as well as future problems the Commonwealth could face, the only mug she wanted to see right now was Nick Valentine. He was a keen Synth detective who would no doubt be as glad to see her as she would be to see him. Nora could go there, get patched up while telling her companion all about what had happened. And they could conspire together. Try to figure out the meaning behind all the clues laid out before them ... Then they could contact the other factions, get the gang back together.

And she could use some noodles from Takahashi's stall.

Nora opened her mouth. "Relay to - "

But at the last minute an image of familiar tattered houses was thrust upon her mental vision. Nora felt an oblong tug of a synapses and the words that splintered off her tongue were not of her own will.

" - Sanctuary Hills!"

She would never get used to the feeling of her body being pulled apart one molecule at a time.

* * *

**"The man came to the edge of a dark and unknown swamp. He had to make a decision."**

"Should he go into the swamp or go around it?" Fiona found herself uttering aloud. Multiple eyes turned towards her. Rachel's head nestled firmly into her side, smiling serenely.

Mama Murphy watched the con artist with a wide, aged smile. "Does he go through the swamp or go around it?" she repeated. "We all ask ourselves that same question from time to time, don't we? It's a very scary question to answer."

The children nodded. Fiona wondered how many of them actually understood the context behind the statement. She looked at Maya and saw the Siren was still as tense as ever, flicking her fingers through strands of blue hair.

**"Next to the swamp was a boy."**

* * *

MacCready and Nick found their way to a set of long stairs after some long, dredged out hunting. They were met by Curie and Codsworth, who groomed them over carefully in search of wounds.

"Are the two of you alright?" Codsworth fretted, lifting MacCready's arms to check for bullet wounds or slice marks on his sides. "You both were down there for quite some time. We were beginning to worry. And I thought I heard some kind of commotion down the hole."

"Relax Codsbot," replied the merc, pulling away disdainfully. "We kept tabs with everybody through the comms. Didn't see a thing down there. Nick busted his head pretty good in the fall. Lost his leg, too. But he's gracious like that."

The Synth detective shot him a cock-eyed look. "Like a ballerina."

"Yeah. Like a drunken ballerina."

"Well, zat's ze problem, Monsieur MacCready," Curie told them as she inspected Nick's awkwardly reattached leg. MacCready thought the detective was staring at the medic Synth a little too intensely. "Zere vas no reception. Ve 'eard nozing but vhite noise up until 'ou started coming up to zis floor. Danse was about to send a team down to search for 'ou."

"Really?"

"I told you I heard something," his noir accent twisting sardonically. "Maybe next time you'll listen to an old man."

"What did you hear, exactly?"

"Distortions. I thought they were voices but it could have very well been some of those computers. You saw how frazzled they were."

He'd never had something interrupt the frequency of a communications device before ... and Nora never had something intercept her Pip-Boy's radio station like that. But Nick was an aged Synth. He'd been around the irradiated Commonwealth for longer than most of them, so MacCready took his word for it. And who knew what Synth receptors were able to pick up? Maybe they were like dogs: capable of hearing that one high-pitched whistle that was just slightly out of the human hearing range.

Once escaping the cautious pokes and prods of the two human-looking-Synths that healed better than they fought, Nick and MacCready pressed on towards the main group. They were gathered _en masse_ , watching Deacon and Cait fiddle with the painting beyond the trap of cymbal-wielding monkey plushies. "Did you find anything?" Danse asked without looking at them.

MacCready frowned. "Sure, yeah, we're okay. Not hurt. It's no big deal. thanks for asking."

"I _didn't_ ask that," rebuked the Elder in a deadpan. "Did you find anything?"

Lilith snorted. She was still up against the wall, still had her arms crossed, still looked pompous as ever. "Yeah, they probably found more stuffed toys. Didn't you, kiddies?"

MacCready felt his blood simmer. "We didn't find anything down there, Danse. A computer room and a closet. That's it. It's been cleared out already."

Nick simply stared at the red-haired vixen, his eyelids narrowing.

"Lilith," he snarled callously.

"Robot," she returned with a spit.

He looked to MacCready and jerked a thumb backwards towards the Siren. His mouth dropped open for words wishing to run without remorse, but he apparently thought better of it and clamped his steel jaws tight. It was probably wiser not to provoke a fight. Not right now.

Deacon yipped jovially. "Got it!"

He grabbed one side of the painting and Cait gripped the other. Together they removed it from the wall. Left in its place was a translucent glass casing. And held within was a single, very familiar sword: its serrated edges glowing with the definition of maintenance, connective wires running between the blade's base and a single large battery.

MacCready's heart leaped into his throat. He heard several members choke back hopeful gasps. Danse himself staggered forward, a Power Armored hand drifting to his helmet and touching his temple gentle in dumbstruck awe.

Hancock ripped loose a laugh. "Buzzkill."

"We're on the right track," Piper whispered, containing her excitement despite how much it yearned to burst from the seams. "Maybe we should clear through the building a little more thoroughly. We must have missed something."

"Let get ta sword, first. Nora'd lose her bleedin' mind if'n we left it here."

"Do we just break the glass?"

"Strong want to smash something. Let Strong break it!" He didn't wait for approval. Raising his gigantic mallet in the air, he brought it down with brute force. The casing exploded into a million smaller shards.

And just like that, everything went wrong.

It started with the cymbal monkeys. One by one their eyes lit up a brilliantly intimidating yellow. Little hands smashed together, their instruments clamoring without tempo in a chaos of clangs and bangs.

Deacon took a step back. He could go no further than the wall and spread his arms out there as if that would somehow save him. "Well, that's some monkey business ... "

Then the walls were splitting. Small cubic holes running in a grid pattern throughout the warehouse revealed themselves behind carefully crafted doors that slid away when the alarm was tripped. Within each empty space was a mini-nuke ... the wiring mesh interconnecting them must have been hidden out of sight behind the walls.

A single light at the mini-bombs' caps indicated their detonation status. They all started off with a slowly blinking green, which transitioned into a more rapid yellow flash -

"It was a trap," Piper rasped.

Danse thrust a finger at the entrance. "EVERYBODY OUT NOW!"

The hasty scuffling of running feet could not deter the mini-nukes. And when the yellow glares transformed to a bloody red, the only thing that could be discerned anymore was the cataclysmic rapture.

* * *

**"The man asks the boy, 'Tell me, does the swamp have a hard bottom?' And the boy tells the man, 'It does!'"**

Maya could no longer contain her antsiness. She stood wordlessly. Like an apparition straight from a haunted house, the blue-haired Siren slipped between the listening children, stepping over nary a one and leaving Mama Murphy's tale uninterrupted. The older woman was so entranced by her own folklore that she didn't even notice when the woman vanished through the door, followed seamlessly by Mordecai and eventually Brick (once he'd managed to pluck the kids from his hulking mass).

Fiona squirmed gently under Rachel. The orphan sat up straight, peering at the towering con artist who stood many feet higher than her. "Where are you going?" she whispered.

It broke her heart the leave the orphan like this, but the brunette with a red-streak in her hair pressed a single finger to her lips and winked. "A secret mission," she whispered back. "I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"You can count on it."

She wasted no more time than that, dodging one kid after another and unwilling to glance over her shoulder to see Rachel's either heartbroken or curious expression. Once she was beyond the door, Fiona's meticulous footing spurred into a galloping gait to catch up with the other Vault Hunters.

Heedless to these events, Mama Murphy continued.

**"So ... the man guides his horse into the swamp."**

* * *

"What's got you in such a hurry?" Fiona quizzed Maya when she finally managed to match the pace with the other Vault Hunters. Mordecai and Brick were as confused as her. Neither shared the determined glare piercing the blue-haired Siren's smooth, pale features.

The answer was simple. "A bad feeling. We're gonna take the last vertibird outta here. Go topside."

Mordecai's expression switched from puzzlement to alarm. "Hey, hey _chica_ , you saw that nuke go off, didn't ya? Big boom? There's radiation all over the place!"

"Yeah, and _Sirens_ don't get affected by it the same way humans do. So you guys might want to go and grab something for it. Cuz I won't be waiting for you long."

"You're going off a _gut feeling_ , Maya?" pressed Fiona, putting on her best game face. "Don't you think that might be a little, I dunno, **brash**?"

"This coming from somebody who jumped into a Vault Hunter fight with, like, little to no prior experience?" Maya retorted. When the con artist glowered back at her, the Siren grinned. "Yeah. I heard all about that. And all about how Brick and Mordecai totally whupped your ass."

"They didn't - "

"Yeah. They did. So instead of trying to argue me out of being _brash_ , why don't you find something that's gonna deal with radiation poisoning because I don't think _these two_ wanna go through it again." The brawler and the hunter definitely looked a little green thinking about it now. "Athena's retired. You want some _real_ Vault Hunter experience, or do you wanna - oh, I don't know - _puss_ out and stay here?"

Fair point. Kinda. Fiona's lips pursed into a frown. "You drive a hard bargain."

" _Ahp ahp_! Medicine or stay here. Your choice. But hurry it up!" The yellow jumpsuit-clad woman clapped her hands together and whistled. Fiona rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned. They were passing through Advanced Systems, breaching the doorway to the bay where the vertibirds were housed. It was empty now, save for one remaining helicopter.

"I - "

" _Vamos_!" Mordecai ordered. He was so suddenly serious that the con artist turned on her heeled boots and split in the other direction.

" - will be right back!"

"Attaboy, Mordecai," congratulated Maya.

"I kinda feel bad for rushing the _chica_ off like that."

"I don't."

Brick's massive hands gestured to the helicopter. It was in a mild state of disrepair, but nothing that would keep them out of the air. "Do you even know how to fly that thing, Maya?"

"I figured we'll wing it."

"What's really got you set on going back up top? Pretty sure Lilith's got it covered." His scarred lips split into something of a sly, knowing smile. "She's a tough Firehawk. And that motley crew she's with ain't exactly untrained from what I been hearin'."

Maya's small footsteps were soft around the metallic flying machine. She nosed her way around it, examining every little detail she could get her eyes on. "Sirens emit a type of distress signal when they're in trouble. You know about that, don'cha?" Brick shook his head. "Figured Lilith didn't fill ya in. That's how she found out about Pandora. And Angel. It wasn't some fluke discovery or something she'd read about in the paper. She picked up a pulse that went ... intergalactic. The same thing we both felt yesterday. The same one I'm getting now."

"You think Lilith's in trouble?" This changed the game up considerably. Bloodthirsty though the firebrand Siren might have been, she was still a teammate. They needed to look out for one another.

"And that whole group she's with."

"Ya think that's sumthin' we might wanna fill _chica_ in on? She n' the sniper dude Athena wants me to train are kinda _close_."

"We'll tell her on the way." She slipped into the cockpit and flipped several switches. The rotors spun to life. So did the copilot seat. Zer0 materialized beside her with a glowing ':-D'. It made Maya jump at least five feat into the air. "Fucking hell, Zer0, don't do that shit!"

"Did I hear 'adventure'?"

"Not in that ... particular word, no ... "

"Then I will

Come with you."

Silence.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"I was expecting, you know ... more to the haiku? Only seven syllables. You doing okay there, hitman?"

Those slender black limbs shrugged. She could never get a good read on that guy. She wished she could just rip the damn helmet off him to see what he truly looked like underneath it. Mordecai hypothesized Zer0 was some kind of alien tentacle monster. Brick thought it would just be a mouth, and that the helmet was his actual **head**. Maya thought they were both full of shit.

Brick and Mordecai climbed into the back. They were joined shortly by a bag of supplies and a revolver-wielding steampunk princess. "Maybe I should let Sasha know. She might wanna come with," Fiona told them as she hauled herself into the vertibird's cargo hold. The announcement was met with several cynical stares. She felt suddenly defensive. "What?"

"I can name off a few things," grumbled Brick.

"One: Athena trained _you_ , not your sister. Not saying that I doubt her capabilities, but I'd sooner trust you to have my back than somebody I'd never met. Two: if she comes, you know Atlas and his college buddy are gonna wanna tag along. I'm pretty sure we're at the weight limit for this thing - I mean, Brick isn't _small_."

"Hey!"

"Any more people in here and the bird won't fly the way it's supposed to. Three - and I can't emphasize this any harder: we're _trained fighters_. We know what to expect. And things up there? They probably got a lot worse since that nuke went off. I heard the stories about the Deathclaws and the Radscorpions from your friends. Can you imagine what's swimming out there in that high-level radiation _right now_? And do you really wanna put your sister at risk like that?"

It was one valid explanation after the next. Fiona couldn't fight her way through each point made without tripping over some truth to Maya's words. Guilt rode her heart rough, but she tugged her hat down and shook her head. "No," she murmured under her breath.

"Good. Dose up one those anti-radiation thingers, boys and girls. We're about to take a ride on the wild side." Maya pushed some buttons. Bafflement lit up her face. "How do we teleport?"

"I think you've gotta say, 'Relay to,' and then the destination," Fiona chipped her two-cents in. She knew only of a few locations. The relay station Rhys fixed and the Vault were both probably completely out of the question. Both were so close to where the bomb hit. But there was at least one other spot ... "Like ... Relay to Mass Pike Tunnel East!"

Cracking thunder and blinding light. Mordecai howled a, "Holeeh _sheet_!" as the vertibird de-molecularized at an impossible speed.

A secondary door in the bay area slid open. Sasha slid out, her face red and eyes slitted in anger. Dogmeat slipped between her legs while barking. "I can't believe she - they - !" The gunslinging Atlas partner stomped hither and thither, so enraged that she found it difficult to formulate words. Both Rhys and Vaughn hung back by the doorway, neither willing to get in her firing range. Not while she gripped her Maliwan SMG so tightly. "How could she just _take off_ like that and - and ... !"

"They're Vault Hunters, Sasha," Vaughn managed.

Rhys tapped him on the shoulder, sidling away from him. "You're on your own, bro."

"That's ice cold, bro."

"I don't wanna sleep on the couch, bro."

Sasha didn't let either of them escape her wrath. She stepped up to them, sizing them both up. "How are you two making _jokes_ right now?!"

"I - uhm - well." Rhys' sheepish grin wasn't going to save him this time. Charm didn't work when one sister was genuinely freaking out about the other's safety. He nervously ran metallic fingers through his hair. "I-I mean, Vaughn's got a p-point. She's with high level Vaulties. They're not gonna let her - "

"It's still my **sister** , Rhys," she bit harshly.

The ex-Hyperion touched his robotic arm and looked down. "Of course I know that," he replied with a hurt tone. Sasha's eyes and voice immediately softened. Either Rhys knew how to rip the angry rug out from under her, or she didn't have it in her to be irritated at him for long.

"It's different out there. You heard Maya. If MacCready and the others are in danger ... if it's gotten to _Lilith_ , too, then ... " Sasha didn't exactly waver or quiver, but there was a tinge in her eyes and a crack to her voice that brought to Atlas CEO to clasp spindly fingers around her own. "If whatever's going on is _that bad_ and Fi's up there ... She just got started. I don't know if she can handle it on her own."

"She's not on her own, though," Vaughn followed them with his tattered coat drifting on motion-formed wind. "Maya and Zer0 were both there to take down Handsome Jack and Lilith's a _legend_. Like, a certified _badass_."

"That wants us dead," Rhys added.

"Well yeah, there's that ... " Vaughn's fingers fidgeted around his eyes. Old habits died hard. "Even if we _did_ wanna get up there, Nick took the Pip-Boy and the buzzards are all gone."

"We've got other options," the cybernetic-imbued man tugged gently at Sasha's hand. He'd gained a sly smile, leading her (and by extension, Vaughn and Dogmeat) farther into the massive bay.

It sat discarded and broken. With the constant stream of events, it was easy to forget that it had existed once - even saved their lives. And now it was here. Sasha wondered where the Caravan had gotten to once they'd teleported to the Institute. Now she had her answer. "You can't be serious."

"Dude, can I remind you that I smashed a **bear** with it?" Vaughn was flabbergasted. "The engine won't turn. And let's not even get started on the boosters - "

"We're in a facility _surrounded_ by tech, man! And I'm sure they won't mind us nabbing some odds and ends off Liberty Prime." He rethought that. "Scratch that. I'm pretty sure they'd **hate** it but they don't even know it's here - "

"We don't know the first thing about fixing cars, Rhys."

"Nooooooooooo, but Janey does."

"Oh," Vaughn stirred. "Ohhhhhh, right, I totally ... " The Children of Helios Leader didn't stick around. Short legs carried him surprisingly quickly out the door.

"That settles the repairs." Sasha's grip tightened on Rhys' hand. She tugged idly at a claw earring. "But teleporting?"

"Uh - ooh, courser chip! We need one of those!"

"A what?"

"I remember some of the BoS nerds talking about it. It'll let us relay. There was one in the Pip-Boy."

"I might be able to bribe one from Li."

"Bribe? How?"

"I used to be a con artist, babe." She spun around him, looping both arms around his neck and standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. He didn't deny her. "I'll figure it out," Sasha winked.

A brow raised. His breath was warm on her face. "'Babe'?" he queried, his whisper amused.

Sasha's smug expression and curled, knowing smile about slayed him. "You don't like the pet name?" she asked coyly.

His ears were burning. Rhys reluctantly released her sides. "I-I could get used to it." She could almost see the lightbulbs flash over his skull. Fingers snapped together. It was his turn to tug her through the doors. "Right - I've gotta get something too."

"What's that?"

"My suit."

* * *

**"And as he begins to _sink_ deeper and deeper into the swamp, he says to the boy, 'I thought you said it had a hard bottom?'"**

* * *

Nora didn't remember Sanctuary Hill like this.

Well, to be honest, it wasn't much different. The buildings were still ragtag, pieces together by scrap bits of metal. A wall of junk surrounded the whole town, paired here and there with turrets and outposts where citizens would keep watch with guns of their choosing. Quiet generators would have powered the bulk of the safehaven's electricity: lights, jukeboxes, the whole shebang. Power relays, an industrial-sized water purifier, the flourishing crop ...

But it was empty. Nobody loomed in the houses. The bazaar stalls held no bazaars. Mama Murphy wasn't sitting in her chair. Empty ... and quiet. And singed. Not singed as in burned, singed as in ... as in something bitter and acidic floated heavy in the air. It nipped at her nostrils, burned at her corneas. The sky was reddish green. The crop was withered and black. Dark clouds gathered heavily in the distance. With the wall in her way, Nora couldn't see the status of Boston or the Red Rocket station not far away. But a foreboding sensation inflated her stomach with deep, unfathomable insecurity.

Maybe this was what Yvette meant when she said to think 'a little closer to home'. The relay here took less time than expected. "Was I being hidden in plain sight?" The office worker formerly occupying her brain refused to answer. Nora tapped at her skull, noting vacancy when only a few minutes ago it felt shared and full. "Yvette?"

Alone again.

Nora stood unsteadily. Without her Pip-Boy there was no telling how many Rads she was soaking up. And without her sword, she was as good as Deathclaw food. _I won't need my weapon, my ass,_ she thought with a venomous sting. _I feel naked._

At least she had the grenades. Two of them. Nora scoffed. So many of the monsters out here required the Fat Man to bring them down. How were two measly grenades going to save her life?

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?_

At least the relay transported her to the town's center and not in, say, a tree or up on a roof. Nora started for her old home. She could at least pick up some supplies. There was a hefty stash of Rad-X and oodles of who knew what. All of that could be done while carefully avoiding Shaun's room. That baby blue crib was the last thing she wanted to see.

Nora got a foot away from the entrance when she heard footfalls at her back. They didn't even allow her the dignity of a turn before a deep, manly voice lashed like a whip, " **Boom** ," and a fierce explosion rocked the world around her.

Just like that ...

Just like that, Sanctuary Hills was no more.

The force of _whatever_ blew up about sent Nora flying. She hollered, gloved fingers scrabbling for whatever she could find. They clung to the metal post of a broken mailbox and she dangled there, her body wanted to go with the direction of the wind but her hands and will demanding to stay in one spot and **not** join the expanding piles of rubble, wood, and steel. Tires, stools, counter tops all whizzed past her face - by some miracle not striking at full velocity and bringing her brief release into the Commonwealth to a bitter end.

When the dust settled, Nora fell flat on her face. Flecks of splinters and metal shrapnel dug scratches into her cheeks, but nothing was serious enough to be concern with.

There was, of course, the matter at hand. The destruction of Sanctuary Hills. It was enough to stun her into submission.

Once upon a time, her home ...

200 years later, Sanctuary became a literal _sanctuary_ to the rejuvenated Minutemen.

Now this. A pile of destruction. And nothing more.

Nora lifted her head slowly. Directly before her was a piece of wood, painted a pale blue, belonging once to Shaun's crib. The one thing she didn't want to encounter was brought almost directly to her nose.

Just beyond it: two pairs of feet. One was clad in heavy armor, almost golden in hue. The other set was black, leathery, and marred with all the marking of a harsh life.

The armored pair met her face first. Nora braced for a sharp kick but instead found gauntlets grappling the neck of her shirt. She was hoisted from the ground almost effortlessly, lifted like bedraggled prisoner of war with no fight left. Chin forced to the bright red sky, her eardrums bounded with the man's thunderous roar.

"Behold, Legionnaires! Behold a taste of the power of Atom! The power that will rebirth the world!"

A cuckold of, "Hoorah!"s echoed from every angle. Nora's irises forced themselves into shifting. Pupils constricted on the dead tree-filled slopes surrounding what had once been Sanctuary Hills. They were covered in standing human bodies, all dressed in galiant militant garb: red fabric, referee chest plates. Some wore red cloth about their faces. Others donned helmets with tinted goggles, or hoods formed from the scalps of dogs, or extravagant headdressses belonging in the history books with chapters of old Rome.

One in five of them carried a flag on their back. Nora could very clearly see depiction of bulls: the same image printed over and over and over again.

And they were armed to the teeth. Swords. Rifles. _Chainsaws_.

 _I won't need a weapon, my ass,_ her thoughts repeated, while she managed a strangled, "What ... ?"

"Welcome to your undoing, child," spoke the man holding her high. Nora attempted to look downwards. She wanted a mere glimpse of her captors. "And by your undoing, you will bind our future to truthful, righteous triumph."

"Child?" Her predicament could not hold back her tide of unrelenting laughter. "I'm probably old enough to be your great-great-great grandma."

Nora managed to will her face down long enough to see his. She was unsatisfied with the result. A mask. Nothing more than a mask. No flesh, no hair ... Why choose to hide behind the facade of some creation that probably didn't exist? She knew her history and her mythology. She knew the thing staring at her was supposed to resemble the god of war, Mars. But its significance escaped her. Nora did take careful note of the unpleasantly overcompensating long sword hanging precariously on his back.

At least the man beside the armor-clad warrior lost in time had the decency to show his face. She almost wished he hadn't. He stood a full foot shorter than his companion and his features were gnarled, mottled, and ugly. Boils blistered on his cheekbones. Deep, remorseless scars etched on every blank piece of canvas his face had to offer. His hair was the only saving grace - dark black and clean, puled into an intricate ponytail of braids. Similar to the towering metallic goliath beside him, this man also wore armor - but it came in the form of steel shoulder guards that reached well beyond the limits of his actual body and knee protectors.

"Who are you?" Nora hissed through clenched teeth. She was hoping for an honest answer, not the melodramatic one that awaited her.

"The ones you will lead to victory with your power." She expected such vague, glorious pretenses from the man in the iron mask, not the vile fleshy being at his side.

"That's not an actual answer."

But it was the only one she was going to get.

The gauntlet slid to her throat and squeezed painfully. Her body was twisted painfully, spun against her will to look out beyond the reached of Sanctuary's ruins. "Behold, the message wrought upon the scourge of mankind by Atom!"

Her heart dropped below ground.

No longer did towering skyscrapers loom on the horizon. Only ashes and clouds of smoke and flattened terrain. 'Where is Boston?' she mouthed, but the pressure on her trachea was too great for words to escape.

Mars held back his arms, releasing his vice-like choke-hold while launching her without regard across the partially-paved, partially-natural landscape. Nora gasped for air. She clawed her way to the piles of junk that had once been houses. Something in there ... maybe a long piece of scrap metal or even a fold of tin ... something in there could be used as a weapon. A swift kick in the ribs rebuked her decision with cracking bone, blinding pain, and two seconds of air time. She crashed back to earth five feet later.

Nora could taste the blood in her mouth. She spit it spitefully towards the masked man. "Where is Boston?" She wheezed. "Where are the Minutemen? What have you - what have you done with everybody?"

Her answer came from the grotesque man. He extended his arms. In both hands were pieces of clothing. He dropped them gracelessly to the ground. Even through hurt-blurred vision Nora could make out the red driver's cap with 'Press' scrawled across a card tucked into its seam ... could make out the faded tan duster with a missing arm that belonged, once, to MacCready.

 _[They're going to try and push you over the edge,]_ Yvette had warned you, but Nora was beginning to wonder how much of the disembodied voice's words she should be taking with a grain of salt. _[Manipulate you.]_

"Am I supposed to be convinced?" she barked harshly even though a sharp pain in her chest constricted her breathing. "You could've stolen it from them. It's not - "

The boil-ridden man kicked the articles of clothing over.

" - like they're - "

Blood soaked the inside of MacCready's coveted coat.

" - dead ... "

Inside Piper's cap, a slab of flesh with strings of black hair.

Searing heat blistered from her abdomen. It burned so badly ... No amount of curling into a fetal position could smother the unfathomable, unquenchable fire of white light that started first at her belly and stretched across her torso, her limbs, her face: curling like tribal tattoos and incinerating like thermite. Her skin was boiling, _peeling_ , bleeding. Smoke with the stench of singed flesh smoldered an rose, expanding with ascension, _pulsating_ as a heart would. Steam exhumed between lips and teeth pulled back so far that Nora feared her maw might split from the torrential, silent scream.

_This is hell, this is -_

"Behold the power of Atom!" Mars was screaming. Too loud for her ears. Too loud for ... "The Power that will bring the great Reset into motion!"

That beastly, rumbling growl pitching from her throbbing throat did not, could not, belong to her.

* * *

**"And the boy says, 'It does. You're just not there yet.'"**


	15. Retributive Justice

The only places they knew to warp to were Vault 81, Relay Tower 1DL-109, and Oberland Station. Since the aforementioned Vault was either heavily irradiated, blown to dust, or _both_ and Rhys was sore about going back to the relay tower - presumably ripped asunder by the nuke's shockwave - to see his effort to fix it reduced to ashes, Oberland was the choice cut. It was farther from the explosion's epicenter anyway. Definitely the safer option. But they packed extra Rad-X anyway and passed a few tabs between each other for the trip ahead. You could never be too safe.

Athena was insistent on coming with them. Some convincing was necessary on Janey's behalf to keep the gladiator from tagging along, and this time for good reason.

"Wha' if Lilith n' 'em come back n' they ain't here?" she'd pressed the determined Vault Hunter.

Athena was hard-pressed to hear her girlfriend out for this one. Boots tapped impatiently. "They'll figure it _out_ , Janey."

"No, dove, she'll figure **he** ," the mechanic directed a finger to Rhys, "kidnapped 'em under Jack's command n' go huntin'. At least we can be 'ere to direct 'em."

"Lilith can get all the information she needs from **anybody** here."

"But they're strangers, Athena. She might hate ya from th' head down, but at least she _knows_ who ya are. Lilith ain't exactly been all drakefruit n' cream wit' th' folks 'ere. Ya know she won't listen to a word they say."

Reluctance skewered the gladiator's scowl but she could find no counter to Janey's point.

It was the second time they teleported and it didn't feel any less disorienting. At least now their crew wasn't hindered by radiation illness or traumatic injury, and no fiery wave was chasing them to their doom. Those were big pluses.

But it broke Rhys' heart to find that Oberland was no better off than the rest of the wastes. Particularly because the very cabin he and Sasha exchanged the big three words (among other things) was nothing more than a pile of splintered wood. "Ah, that ... that sucks," he sulked, cybernetic and human eye drifting over the rubble with defined sorrow as he peered through the windshield.

Sasha removed a hand from the steering wheel to gently pat his arm. She put a finger to her head and winked. "It's all up here."

Shooting a grin at her was short-lived. Vaughn stepped between them, a hand on both of their shoulders. "Not to interrupt or anything, but you both realize we have _no idea_ where we're going right?"

"Yeah," the grin melted off Rhys' face. "Yeah, about that ... " They'd thought of the courser chip and got the caravan repaired on short notice. But ...

" ... Nobody thought to ask around?" Sasha coughed and looked away. Atlas ran a hand through his hair. For a man who'd once been a jump-at-his-own-shadow pencil pusher, the newfound bandit king could sure pull off one hell of a reproachful frown. "Really? Neither or you? _Come on_!"

"Ehehe, well ... "

"You forgot too, genius," Sasha plucked Vaughn's self-assuredness and chewed on it for good measure. The bandit quickly shrunk back down to their level, head hanging shamefully. "But at least we have another option."

Vaughn peeked towards her. "What's that?"

"Poke your head through the roof and have a look around."

Despite his earlier bravado, he deflated almost entirely. "Well - the best way to avoid keeping your head from getting blown off is to _not_ stick it - "

"Go." Her stern voice and jabbing fingernails offered no means of avoidance. "And be quick. I don't want to stay in one spot for any longer than I have to. We're sitting ducks, and you know how these mutant things love radiation. Hurry it up."

Vaughn floundered to the ladder, stepping past a sleeping Dogmeat. Rhys was behind him. "I'll back ya up, buddy," he beamed, but that cheeky thumbs-up and anxious smile wasn't fooling anybody.

He shoved the hatch open and climbed outside. Something acidic stung the back of his throat the moment he took in oxygen. Never before was he so grateful for taking medication - that Rad-X was probably going to save their hides today. Rhys stopped halfway through the opening and leered southbound while Vaughn scanned the northern sky. "Man," he sighed, "I'm so not ready for this."

"At least you have a gun," countered his taller, lankier friend. "At least you can _use_ a gun."

The plasma pistol he 'borrowed' from the Institute's armory felt out of place tucked into his pants. He allowed his hand to glide over its smooth handle, flinching as though the metal chomped into him. "Doesn't mean I want to."

"You've had to before, right? At Helios? That place is a neon sign for bandits. 'Here be loot, come rob me!'"

"Oh yeah. Several times, in fact." Stroking his beard, Vaughn recounted his experiences with grim composure. "One was a day after we got there. Everybody was still nursing their wounds. It was a mess. But bro, let me tell you, _shooting a man_? That was my first time. And it just - it - I dunno, it changes you." He shuddered. "Still gives me nightmares. I don't know how anybody can do it on the norm."

Sasha's voice carried over to them, bouncing off metal walls. "See anything?"

"I've got nothing but smoke, and green skies. That's everywhere. Soooooo no," Rhys' shoulders sagged, white teeth flashing sheepishly.

"How about you, Vaughn?"

"Nothing as far as the eye can - oh wait!" _That_ was a new development. Yes it was smoke, but it was rising fast and furious from the ground, churning in a spiral and forming angry, choking clouds in the atmosphere. Streaks of lime-colored lightning blitzed from one black veil to the next. It could have easily been coaxed to life by a heated fire burning out of sight, but even so it felt unnatural. Tiny hairs pricked on the back of his neck. Colds fingers screaming 'danger!' stroked his back. "I've got something! Straight north, can you see it?"

It took her a second before she confirmed his discovery. "Yeah, I see it. What d'you think it is?"

Before he could answer his uncertainty, a long, low growl pierced the ultimately quiet caravan. Rhys nearly sprang out of the hatch and his skin all in one go before he realized it was Dogmeat, standing suddenly on all fours with ears pointed forwards and lips curled into a malignant snarl like before, when Teddy surprised them all with his Yao Guai yawn. Her fur bristled straight, tail pointed upwards.

"What's wrong, pup?"

Legs stiff, Dogmeat positioned herself to face the direction Rhys was supposed to be looking.

Wretched genderless screams rang out that weren't there exactly one minute ago.

"PUNY HOOMANZ!"

"HAHA! FRESH MEAT TODAY! NO MORE BUGS!"

"DIE! DI _EEEEEEEEE_!"

There were more than three voices, but they were all shouting virtually the same thing over and over again in different orders and pitches. Swallowing hard, Rhys forced himself to glance over. His field of vision was overflowing with a swarm of giant hideously mutated humans with rusty armor and weapons often bigger than their torsos. Super Mutants. At least a dozen of them if not more. And not at all as ... ah ... _benevolent_ as Strong.

What was that relentless _tick tick tick tick_? It was getting closer, louder, and faster.

" _Sasha_?!" He couldn't keep the rising panic out of his voice as he called to her. "Go. _Gas_. _**Accelerate**_."

When a stream of bullets came raining down on them, Rhys ditched climbing the ladder for dropping off it. Vaughn dove into the hatch after him, crashing headlong into the Atlas silver arm his friend was guarding his own face with. Blood gushed from his invariably broken nose. In spite of this, the bandit king rose his head and hollered, "DRIVE!"

Sasha didn't need to be told twice. Especially not when gunfire was pinging off their ride's sides.

* * *

The writhing agony besieging hastily spread to the other parts of her body. Bits of skin flayed backwards, bubbling and burning until the blackened edges disintegrated into ashes and joined the smoldering haze ascending higher and higher into the atmos. Her eyes were on fire, sight blurred by dehydration no amount of blinking could relieve, blinded by the acute glow of her own tribal markings. Jaws widened and locked rigidly. A deepening, lumbering growl rolled in the back of her throat: a caged beast seeking escape and finding none readily available. Muscles became tonic, so painfully taut that they screamed for release.

It was paralytic.

Nora could neither move nor speak. She could only watch with impaired vision and listen with ears pulsing to the sound of throbbing arteries.

Those two were still ahead of her. The masked man was unreadable for obvious reasons. If his 'friend' wore any kind of expression whatsoever, it was virtually unreadable. They both regarded her with the same judgmental silence.

Nora could hear the unmasked man speak. "Mighty Caesar, the subject is not transgressing any further."

The muffled response was just barely distinguishable. "It can be provoked by threatening the vessel's survival, the way all animals become more dangerous when backed into a corner."

"I will retrieve one of the slaves for this matter, sir."

But armored hands grabbed the man's shoulder and spun him around before he could get far. "This is the reason I summoned you to my side, Praetorian," Mars-Mask rumbled. His voice became low. Dark. _Dangerous_.

With his mouth hidden by the red facial wrap, Nora couldn't tell if horror was the Praetorian's persevering theme. Those eyes certainly widened. "Sir?"

Caesar's arm moved too quick for the red-masked man to react. Metal collided with his cheek, audibly splintering bone and visually breaking skin. Crimson blossomed across his nose to the other side of his face. He fell to his knees but did not rise to react as Nora would expect any man who'd just been slugged to do. Even when the copper-armored warrior approached his stunned, crumpled form from behind and placed that massive sword upon his shoulder, the Praetorian simply accepted his punishment as if he knew he deserved it.

Listening more, perhaps this was the case. "You were discovered consorting with a Minuteman whore from Abernathy Farm. Her punishment was swift. The woman and those in her company were strung upon crosses to watch their home burn to the ground before joining them in eternal fire."

Though he remained silent, lightning dancing above them reflected the tears slowly worming their way from the Praetorian's eyes, soaking the rag upon his mouth. Nora was not without an effect from hearing the news. Her throat tightened. The Abernathy family was among the first settlements requesting help from the Minutemen when word got around of their revival. They had been so warm and receptive of her - even Blake, always tense after his daughter was killed by raiders. Yet he broke down in front of her when Nora returned with her stolen locket as a show of good faith.

And now they were all ... ?

MacCready, Nick, Piper, Strong, Preston, Deacon, Cait, Hancock, Codsworth, Curie ... Danse ... the Abernathy family and the Minutemen protecting them, all of Boston, Sanctuary Hills ... Were they all gone courtesy of the tyrannical opposition standing so sure of himself before her right now? Rising hatred slammed heaviness on her chest. Breathing was becoming a labor. Flesh burned at increasing temperatures.

_Monster._

"But I will give you a reprieve, and you will be the only Legionnaire to receive such a blessing." The Mars-Mask removed a small, cylindrical piece of metal from a sheath at his side. It had several blinking lights on one end and a piercing needle on the other that, with the push of a button, extended several feet, taking the form of lance. The stupefied man held it as though handling an pike weapon was something he'd never done before. "Instigate the vessel's need for survival. Awaken the Siren. Do this, _survive_ , and your return to the Legion will be honored, your crime relinquished to the wind."

Watery eyes stared from Caesar, to the sword, to Nora. They closed. His torso heaved a weighted sigh. When his orbs opened again, Nora witnessed his acceptance in the face of what was (to him) a certain end. "I will do as you wish, Caesar. To restore my honor. To prove my will to serve unyieldingly in your name."

"Awe, Praetorian."

"Awe. True to Caesar!"

He climbed from his knees. The long walk to Nora's side started off slowly, almost hesitant. After just two steps the Praetorian's gait became confident; unwavering. And as he reached her immobilized form and raised the black spear above his head, tip positioned downwards, their gazes met. Nora wanted to call to him, _Don't do this. The Abernathies were my friends. The Minutemen were my friends. We can fight this. We can fight him. It doesn't have to be this way._

For a split second Nora entertained that maybe, somehow, the Praetorian had heard her through all the mess. A raw emotion shone strongly in his blue irises. It took him longer than it should have to plunge the weapon into her flesh. But then the remorse was chased away by something darker and the lance came down. Its point burrowed into her skin, slipped between her ribs, ripped through muscle and sinew, _plunged_ towards her heart. She wanted to holler, scream, writhe away and rip the spear away as burning pain raged through her chest cavity, the sharpened tip finding the beating organ within and pressing forcefully upon it -

_[I told you not to let them manipulate you.]_

She understood the all-consuming darkness to be death -

_"Mama, I'm - "_

\- until light exploded around her and she could see everything clearly. Nora's maw split apart wider, the growl evolving into a full-grown bellow of hate and pain. Muscles that refused to budge moments ago readily slid into motion. She was on her feet before her human mind could let the action register. Heat slid from the retinas to the backside of her brain, inflicting a mind-numbing passion for the hunt. Limbs moved without her willing them. The lance, once lodged in her chest, shifted from the front to the back and nestling in place beside her spinal column as steam rose from the rapidly healing crevasse formed by its migration.

She set upon the Praetorian, tenaciously rending flesh from bone in a great geyser of blood and viscera until she could take his whimpering no more and ripped his screaming head off his shoulders with elongated claws of red-imbued shadow.

The slack-jawed cranium sat lax in the palm of her darkened hand. His Praetorian's pupils constricted, darting in unbelieving terror. They annoyed her. She gouged them out.

 _Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well!_ quipped a quieting part of grey matter. Nick would appreciate the soliloquy, no matter how dark the situation.

It dimly occurred to her a moment later that she had no idea who that was.

* * *

They lost the Super Mutants in a series of high-speed turns and jumps that made Vaughn whoop loudly with exhilaration, Sasha squeal with excitement, and Rhys groan queasily while holding onto the sofa for dear life. Magically through all this, Dogmeat remained upright and unharmed. Was the canine really used to this kind of chaos? A happy little yip and wag of the tail seemed to answer the question.

"Let's never do that again," moaned the Atlas CEO, wobbling to his feet.

"Awww, Rhys, you're no fun!" Vaughn pumped his fists into the air. "That was _awesome_!"

Sasha laughed. " _Yeah_ , Rhys! C'mon!"

"That's right. You two go ahead and gang up on me- _huuuuu_ \- " Dignity was lost to puking out the caravan's door. Just when he thought it might be restored, he noticed how fast the ground was rolling beneath them and hurled again. A few gulping breaths later and the shade of green was vacating his face. Dogmeat was at his feet when he slammed the door shut and turned away. Rhys crouched down and was affectionately greeted with dog kisses. "Awww, at least _someone_ wuvs me even if I got a weak stomach."

Sasha blew a raspberry. Rhys cackled. Vaughn stared. "Did you just _baby talk_ a dog, dude?"

"I - no ... "

"Yes."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Sasha?"

"I heard it. If Dogmeat ever has puppies, we're so screwed."

Rhys offered the German Shepherd a few last pats to the head before making his way to the driver's seat. His arms loped across Sasha's shoulders, eyes on the horizon and smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No. I'd only take, like ... one. Or half."

"Why not go all in and adopt them all?" Sasha averted her eyes from the road for only a second to embrace his cybernetic side and plant a kiss on the metal arm. Red flashed across his ears.

"Gotta save some for the Institute kids. I'm not a _total_ douche."

"Hey, hey look!" Vaughn pointed beyond them. The black cloud transcending the heavens was dissipating. Thankfully they were close enough to not get lost without some kind of a beacon pointing them in the right direction. "Did you see that? Kinda vanished pretty quick there. No tapering or anything. It just **stopped**."

"Maybe we're catching them in the tail end of ... _whatever_ it is they're doing," Sasha mused. She added with a murmured undertone, "I hope Fi's okay. I'll kill her if she isn't."

"I'm sure she'll be completely alive for you to, uh, death-ify," Rhys offered helpfully. The con artist-gone-Atlas partner didn't look convinced. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "They'll be better when we get there to help. Everything'll be fine, Sash."

Five minutes later he was eating his own words.

The smoke didn't lead them to Fiona and Maya, or MacCready and his gang of ne'er-do-wells. And the massive group of heavily-armed men in Roman-esque warrior skirts looked far from pleased to see them as they put-putted across the rickety, half-collapsed bridge leading into the leveled zone that had perhaps once been a town.

Vaughn's whisper echoed the fear sketched on Rhys and Sasha's extremely worried faces. "We should turn around and leave. Right now."

They attempted to, but the army's factions split to block the bridge off. Guns pointed at them through the windshield. One of the folks armed with steel shoulder pads and a hunting rifle motioned slowly for them to exit the vehicle.

"Maybe ... maybe they're friendly?" Rhys choked, doubting his own words. "I mean, uh, we haven't run i-into any hostile factions. May-maybe they're more scared of us than we are them?"

The con artist in red shook her head. "They look military and we haven't run into any hostile factions _yet_."

Delaying only tested their patience. He drove his point home by firing a single round into the window. It sung past Sasha's ear and tore through the arm of Rhys' suit.

"What do we do?" Vaughn hissed.

Sasha answered with, "What choice do we have?"

Rhys led them to the door. He was greeted with the butt of a gun the moment he opened it, saying, 'Hello' first to his gut and then to his head. The CEO mewled at the formation of stars in his peripherals. "Why - _why_ is it always the face?"

"Rhys!" Sasha leapt behind him with Vaughn in tow. Even Dogmeat was at their heels, barking and snarling and snapping her fangs together. Their two raised weapons - a Maliwan shock SMG and a plasma pistol - were nothing in comparison to the firing squad awaiting them outside. "Shit ... "

"Drop the weapons, profligates!" one of them ordered. With all of their masks and mouth wraps, it was difficult to tell who'd actually spoken.

"Profligate?"

"Drop them, or be fed to the vessel!"

Neither of them had a chance to question the sentence before a threatening roar howled loudly enough to rupture the earth with tremors. Dogmeat's growls subsided to whimpers. She slunk to the ground with her tail between her legs. Vaughn slowly placed his pistol on the ground. Sasha was slow to follow, complying only when the man with the hunting rifle had the barrel of his weapon pressed firmly against Rhys' skull.

"Right! Fine! Dropping them." Her free hand up and visible, Sasha was full of regret as the SMG hit the caravan floor. "Just don't hurt anybody. We're not here to fight."

And the army wasn't there to listen.

Rhys was jerked to his feet, Sasha and Vaughn ripped roughly from the vehicle. Dogmeat was left behind with the door slammed shut. It didn't take long for the skirt-clad men to tie their hands behind their backs, leading them through the crowd of hundreds of others dressed exactly like each other with variations based upon what they could guess was rank. The back rows of the militarized faction were filled with men in heavy armor and broomhead helmets (headdresses). Armor became more simplistic with progression to the front of the line. Clearly their battle strategy was meant to put the least experienced soldier in the front as cannon fodder to protect the ones in the back - the veterans who would attack only if those ahead of them fell.

Spaced throughout the organization by about every tenth soldier was a Vexillarius bearing a flag of a bull.

Shoved through the mass with guns and blades at their backs, Rhys could feel the burning gazes of soldiers plant on him and turn away. Murmurs of 'Synth' and 'Institute' audibly circulated. He slammed his left eye shut and gulped. These garbs, though ... The flag ... Matches struck inside his brain but the synapses just weren't placing it. "We've seen this in the Survival Guide, Sash. I know we have."

"We did," she admitted through a grimace. The man leading her was pressing a machete a little too deeply into her back. Rhys wanted nothing more than to headbutt him. Knowing that could very well get them all killed was a good motivator not to act on impulse. "Crap, I can't think of the _name_."

"We'll figure it out when we get out of this." Vaughn's voice never really raised since they were cornered at the bridge. He saw no reason to increase the volume now. "I mean, we've gotten out of worse shitstorms. This'll ... this'll be ... "

Ushered to the front of the battalion with the freshest of the fresh, Vaughn and the others came into full view of the spectation taking place. They felt the percentage drop on their chances of survival like they felt the burst of cold air that broke through layers of clothes and flesh to freeze their very bones.

Sitting center stage in the ruined town was a man in golden-copper armor and a mask of some ancient god Earthlings worshipped long before the modern day of nuclear energy and gatling guns. He wielded a sword that was more a hybrid of a pike and a blade - half one and half the other.

Sure, that guy - he was pretty intimidating. But so was the thing staring him down with glowing teal, pupil-lacking spheres in a mass of blackness. It might have been human. Once. But skin and flesh had been traded for obsidian shadows flecked with bits of crimson, racing up and down each limb and major body segment. It stood on two legs and had the structure of a _Homo sapien_ , but the fingers and toes ended in sharpened points as if claws lurked in hiding beneath the darkened shadows. Tendrils whipped out from its head: elongated strands of what could have been otherworldly hair.

And there were the tribal markings splayed across its lower belly, pulsating its luminescence into view every second as a heart would. _Ba-dump ... ba-dump ... ba-dump ..._

It glowered at the man in the mask. Then a slit appeared on its face - something that might be a mouth - and exhumed steam with a bestial groan. Loping steps were taken towards the warrior sharing its spotlight, claw-laden arms swaying with the movement. Within ten feet a sharp flash snapped across the monster's back and it shrieked painfully as a dog would running into an electric fence, reeling backwards with narrowing eyes.

The man pressing the gun against Rhys' back kicked him sharply in the legs. His knees struck dirt. Vaughn and Sasha's captors followed suit. Rifleman waved his gun in their faces. "Stay still and behave yourselves, profligates. Mighty Caesar will deal with you shortly."

Caesar was presumably the man in the iron mask. He raised a gauntleted hand to the crowd, gesturing to his higher ranking officers. "Send me the Captures."

A group separated themselves from the main crowd ahead of them with the prodding of guns and pointed weapons, just beyond the looming mass of destruction with claws. There were thirty of them at least. Tattered rags decorated their beaten, bruised, and bloody forms. Large metallic collars were fastened around their necks.

Rhys wavered. "Why do they have - ?"

His answer came swiftly when one of the younger, more spritely men took off running towards the shallow river. Ducking and weaving between arms reaching for him from all directions, the man successfully dove down the running water's banks without breaking a bone or losing his footing. Dodging bullets was a miraculous feat. Rhys was silently cheering him on as he vanished into the distance ... up until the collar exploded along with his head.

Vaughn groaned. "You know that moment when your position gets put into perspective? This is one of those moments. What was that?"

"A slave collar." Sasha really had been paying attention to the Survival Guide. "They go off when you get too far away from your base ... " Green eyes found Rhys' mismatched ones. "You don't think they're gonna do that to us, do you?"

Not for the first time since their arrival on Earth, the CEO was rendered without a solution.

Caesar was speaking again. He addressed the crowd of 'Captures' with an authoritative voice. Even though they lingered not far from where the shadowed beast lurked, it didn't bat an eye at their presence. It appeared only to have eyes for the armored man. Studying him. Waiting for an opportune moment to strike if it could without getting forced back.

"My Legion," he began.

" _That's_ what the faction's called."

"Caesar's Legion." Sasha's wistful stare was filled with dread. She concentrated on the armored man with the godly mask. "Which means that's the Legate. Er ... the new Caesar."

Rhys was gulping far too much today, but it matched his defeated tone. "Lanius. Sasha, in case we get the crap killed out of us today, I love you."

"Don't get all doom and gloom on me now," she snapped. "We don't even know what's going on. Or what's gonna happen. Fi and the others are still out there. Maybe they'll find us."

Poor Vaughn was lost for the majority of that conversation. He tilted his head quizzically. "Let's pretend that I'm new to this planet and don't know what the hell _either of you are talking about_?"

Lanius pressed on. "Today will be a demonstration of the power harnessed for us by Atom. The power that will rebirth the world. The power that will lead the Legion in our conquest. The power of a Siren!"

Attention = gained. Rhys, Sasha, and Vaughn's heads whipped to the center. "Did he say ... ?" Vaughn breathed. "But it ... it doesn't look anything like Lilith or Maya. This is some kind of joke, isn't it?"

"It will also be a demonstration of what is done to those who dare to stand against us. Our law is not to be questioned, and those seeking dissolution will be punished accordingly. These Captures have seen fit to question the Legion's ethics. They are profligates who not only refused to assimilate as their former companions have, but who dared to attack us with a most disgusting form of advanced technology. As such, they will be tested against the Siren's vessel. If they refuse to do so, they are to be eradicated."

"What's the point of fighting it under threat of death if it's just going to kill us anyway?!" an older Capture with a long, gray beard screamed. Open cuts across his face bled freely. He'd been beaten not so long ago. "Your Atom is untrue! He would never employ a - a _monster_ to do his bidding! Nor would he join forces with the Legion! We are the **true** Children of Atom and you are all **heathe** \- "

His thoughts gushed away with his blood as a recruit slit his throat.

"If this is not the will of Atom, then test it. If you believe your faith in the false Atom will protect you, then shall you not remain unscathed?" Captured whispered together as Recruits undid their bindings. "You will be given the chance of a fair fight and supplied weapons. Bear in mind that you are surrounded on all sides by loyal Legionnaires. You will be cut down where you stand if you dare to launch your attacks into the crowd."

Guns were distributed. To their part, the Legion did not supply them with shoddy ones. These were carbines, sniper rifles, railway guns and at least one Fat Man (probably not the wisest decision considering the close quarters everybody was in). It was expected of the Captures to turn around and shoot at members of the Legion. One of them did and was gunned down by a well-aimed pistol shot.

Rhys felt sick.

"He's putting on a show," Sasha growled in disgust. "That ... that _skag_ shit. And if those are the Children of Atom - I'm not saying they deserve it. Or maybe I am but ... crap, I don't know. This is fucked."

Trembling fingers were raising equally shaky guns. Nobody wanted to fire the first shot. And the monster - the supposed Siren, or the Siren vessel or whatever it was - was completely content with that. It advanced towards Caesar Lanius several more times. Each attempt rewarded it with a shock. By the third try it screamed, stretching claws behind its back to grab at something out of sight.

The zap bestowed upon it this time was enough to knock it onto flat onto the ground, but this time the bolts of lightning were visible pale blue arcs extending from a single, probing object lodged deep within the monster's back, tapping its spine and exhibiting a stranglehold on the rest of it. Punishment for acting out of accordance. And when the electric waves were gone, a single yellow light zipped from one eye and out the other: a ghost.

That was when Vaughn breathed in slowly. A reverse gasp. "Rhys." Atlas followed his eyes to the metal device the 'Siren' was struggling to remove. "That's the drive."

"That's the ... " He started speaking the words without realizing the meaning behind them at first. But when he got to 'drive', it clicked into perspective. Rhys' pulse quickened.

"It keeps trying to attack Lanius. I think the drive's holding it back ... Rhys? Breathe." Sasha pressed against his shoulder.

He wasn't aware he'd been holding his breath until bullets ripped through the air, successfully scaring the crap out of him enough to force lungfuls of air into his chest.

It was those same bullets ripping into the monster's flesh that finally spurred it into action. The 'Siren' let out a shrill response to pain, springing to all fours and wheeling on them quicker than light could travel. Burning white tribal markings raced up its left arm as it swung outwards. Flames launched from the fingers, surrounding the first five that attacked in white-hot fire and blackening their corpses in the time it took the beast to recoil its limb and launch headlong into a direct assault.

Panic reigned.

Fearing for their lives, the remaining Captures opened fire with everything that they had. Roaring dissent was the only warning the 'Siren' gave. It moved too fast, slipped in and out of view too quickly. A slash here. A bite there. One Capture was snatched up by the leg and thrown into the crowd with enough force to splatter the body on impact, taking several Legion personnel down in the process - an action that curled a foreboding glowing smile upon its twisted face of darkened splotches.

Five of the men wielding submachine guns banded together in a small group. They formed a circle, back-to-back and unleashing torrential hellfire when discovering the beast's location. Unable to draw close enough to them to do some actual damage without taking several dozen bullets in the process, the 'Siren' leaped into the air. Illuminated markings sprung to life once more, spindling towards both feet as they planted so harshly into the broken pavement that they formed craters. The rock beneath the encircled SMG users propelled upwards quickly enough to send them skybound. Imbuing Siren abilities into its right arm this time, it thrust its claws into the air. Sickles of wind transformed four out of five Captures into human cutlets.

The fifth was launched upon hungrily. Sharpened fingers pulled recklessly at the petulantly screaming man's slave collar until it gave way with a shower of sparks and exploded - leaving nothing but chunks of flesh and destroying the beast's arm in one go.

Steam encapsulated the stump. When it subsided, the missing limb was regenerated.

Five remained.

The Fat Man Capture was at least smart enough to evade the main battleground. He reappeared along the clearing's edge, crouching and concentrating hard on his target. When he thought the 'Siren' was not attentive to his locale he launched the Mini-Nuke. Careening through the air towards its target gave the little devastating bomb a shrill whistle. It was the only thing that warned the monster of its presence ... Dipping low to avoid a direct strike kept the bomb airborne for a little while longer. It screamed over where Rhys, Vaughn, and Sasha hunched overangling downwards until its target clearly became the caravan.

But the 'Siren' was after it. The Pandoran and two Hyperions had to flatten against the ground to avoid its claws. Those Legionnaires behind them were not so lucky. Blurred black and red limbs loped with haste to the caravan. Dogmeat's tumultuous barks and whines were loud enough to be heard all around. Rhys really hoped the 'Siren' would pay the dog no mind ...

Lucky them, its focus was on other things. Grabbing the mini-nuke by the tail fin without it going off was surrealistic enough. But spinning lobbing it back to the shooter? He felt bad enough for the Captures, but that one was just ... gut-wrenching. The minuscule nuclear explosion reeked of radiation. It not only destroyed the Fat Man Capture but every Capture around him, ultimately 'clearing the board' of opposition enlisted by the Legion.

In under five minutes.

It was a massacre. Average humans, especially ones lacking in superior technology like what was on Pandora and (he had to admit) Helios, weren't made to stand up to beastly abominations like this. Earth had monsters, but not monsters with superpowers.

No wonder Sasha worried about her sister's wellbeing in becoming a Vault Hunter. _Rhys_ was starting to worry, too.

With all targets eliminated and the 'Siren' no longer being fired upon, it acted upon no urgency. But those radiant teal orbs were once again leering at Caesar Lanius. Slender cranium cocking to the side, the beast seemed to be taking several things into consideration. Then it bobbed its head, jumping to the ground. Delicate but lethal fingertips padded about the army in a circle, seeking a vantage point. Then it crouched on all fours as a hound would. And it became stoic, intensive ...

Tribal etchings shifted again but sluggishly this time. Unlike the previous spur-of-the-moment onslaughts, these beat in tune with the main cluster plastered across its abdomen. They crawled upwards, unraveling around everything in the upper body. Chest. Back. Neck. Head. Deep breathing. The torso inflated.

Sasha's eyes widened. She'd seen this before. "That's - "

The 'Siren' _screamed_.

Shrill enough to burst an opera singers eardrums and loud enough to make the terrace vibrate. Cracks spidered across the caravan's windows. Legionnaires were brought to their knees. And those directly in front of the 'Siren' were subjected to something far worse than sound waves. They got the full blast of a powerful exhalation - a _WHUMPH_ of air that knocked them down.

While the 'Siren' aimed at Lanius, the blast emitted was not fast or powerful enough to reach him without the Caesar simply sidestepping the attack. He chuckled darkly under the mask, tilting his own skull. "Was that meant to intimidate me?"

It quickly became clear that _that_ was not the goal.

The Legion members who'd been struck head-on grappled to push themselves up on limbs that were suddenly too frail to maintain their weight, too paper-thin to withstand any more damage, too wrinkled to be ... to be ... Sasha realized in horror that they were no longer young men but brittle, gaunt elders. The aging process did not halt simply because the 'Siren' exhumed what power it stored for the attack. She watched them wither first to skeletons with skin stretched too tight, then to skeletons, and finally to dust carried off by the gentlest of breezes.

"Th-the-that's ... "

Rhys watched her with unblinking concern, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. "You never stutter." He didn't joke. He didn't smile. It was clear his thoughts were drifting elsewhere for a while now.

Teal orbs locked with the unmoving glare of the Mars mask and the Siren marks receded. Sasha shook her head. "In the Vault on Pandora ... the Siren that sent me here? She did the same thing. The scream. It teleported me. It might sound totally off the wall, but I think it's ... it's possible this is ... " Grinning weakly, she looked at Vaughn. "This isn't a joke. It - there's no way."

The bandit king laughed anxiously. "Well then, I guess we better get these binds off, huh?" He removed his hands from behind his back. Rope was no longer tied to them.

Sasha's face dropped. "How ... _when_?"

"Kroger's knife. When LB kidnapped us?" Rhys was next to him. He scuttled behind the CEO, no longer under threat of being shot from behind with their Legion captors incapacitated. "I'll cut you free."

Even Rhys had to crack a smile despite his complexion of a specter. "Vaughn the resourceful, man - haha - am I _really_ glad you're around."

The Siren screeched. It barreled towards Lanius and Sasha could now understand why it went through all the effort to show off its time manipulation abilities. By turning the Legionnaires to dust, it had cleared a path. No bodies to jump around, trip over ... just a clear shot between it and the Caesar. And with some acceleration on its side, maybe it could override Handsome Jack's surviving drive with brute force. Speed was key. And Lanius was stalwart. He refused to budge. Distance closed between them. 20 feet. 15. At 12 it jumped into the air with arms stretched backwards, ready to claw and tear and maim.

But at 10 feet the drive activated. It sought retribution against the rebellious Siren, agonizing arcs of blue lightning spitting from the probe's head to the rest of the monster's body. The beast was wrenched backwards, uttering pleas of pain and anguish by clamping its eyes shut and howling bitterly as it was slammed hard into the earth.

Rhys flexed his rope-burned wrist and Vaughn moved next to Sasha. But the Legion had eyes everywhere. No sooner had the bandit king touched the blade to Sasha's binding than they were set upon by Prime Veterans. This time Rhys wasn't the only one to receive a blow to the head. They hunched over, wiping blood from their mouths.

"Bring them to me."

Gruff hands found their shoulders, angling them painfully as they were forced to their feet and thrust upon the cleared location that had become the 'arena' for the day. In the haze of red that followed a particularly brutal smash to the temple, Rhys was able to pinpoint Vaughn's location ... and found that the former accountant was the only one dragged into the open. Sasha remained in the crowd, held firmly in place by several recruits. She squirmed and fought to get them off, struggling to inch towards her friend and boyfriend with a beet red complexion. She was ripped back forcefully. Rhys launched to her defense and was winded by a well-placed punch from something mechanical. ( _Power Fist?_ ) Keeling forwards to protect his chest only ended up getting him tossed onto his back.

From his standpoint the sky was spinning. Then it was Caesar Lanius' mask leaning over him. Cold gauntlets yanked him up by his collar, angling the pull in such a way that Rhys was being choked. His kneejerk reaction was to scrabble at the metal fingers, pupils constricting into a state of pure post-traumatic terror while he gasped for air that didn't come.

"Get off him!" Vaughn was puny, but he was stronger than he looked. He drove his shoulder into Lanius side.

But the Caesar was a man who wore heavy metal armor for the majority of his servitude in the Legion, and a little nudge like that wasn't going to shake him. He did drop Rhys, but it was only to bring the brunt of his blade upon Vaughn's exposed, vulnerable chest. Red splayed from the opening gouge, and the Atlas CEO suddenly forgot the reason he was clutching his own throat.

The bandit king stumbled, eyes wide and lost. His voice was distant, confused. "Rhys?"

Slow motion. The world went silent. But Sasha was screaming. And Vaughn was falling. And Rhys was on his knees, pressing his hands against the injury to stem the flow of blood. Queasiness was a far away thing. "Vaughn, don't you dare - !"

Pink bubbles dribbled from the corners of the accountant's mouth. "It'll be okay, Rhys."

" _I swear to god_ , _Vaughn_!"

A formerly bespectacled eye winked. "I'm not ... "

But he gasped, seized, jerked ... and then lay still. Rhys' lips parted, closed again, dropped once more. He tilted his chin, eyes wide, voice lower than a peep. His eyes burned. The same sensation of total loss when he thought he was losing Sasha came flooding back with his brother's body growing cold beneath his hands. "Vaughn?"

" _This_ is what the Institute expects to throw at us to bring us to our knees! Useless Synths! Frayed technology that was once the cause for the world's destruction!" Lanius boomed through the war god's mask. "Tools that weaken humanity as a whole! Make us despondent, quibbling children! We have our power. And we will have their lands. We will have their bodies thrust upon crucifixes, burned as the world will burn! We will have our victory, and it will be honest - purchased in blood! And we will have our global rebirth! The chance to begin again, the way Atom meant for it to be - with the Legion in control!"

"Awe, true to Caesar!"

"Awe, true to Caesar!"

"Awe, true to Caesar!"

The data drive's vexation against the beastly aberration finally came to an end. The Siren did not lay prone for long.

When it stood on its hind legs it did so with strength and purpose.

When it turned to face Lanius, it did so with well-trained recognition.

When it lurched towards Rhys with bristling shadows and steaming jowls, it did so with eyes that were no longer teal but yellow.


	16. Happy Homicide

The only sounds of the moment existed from the Legionnaires around Sasha. She struggled with her restraints, valiantly fending off one post-Roman soldier after another. Each one underestimated her unnatural strength and was thrown clear by kicks and thrusting shoulders.

Rhys would have probably cheered her on if he wasn't currently staring down a yellow-eyed death. He was left with two options: stay and defend Vaughn (his blood was hot and plentiful, but he was still breathing) or run for the hills.

Fighting wasn't included in his skill set. But he wasn't about to ditch his childhood friend, his 'brother from another mother'. And when the sharpness of flesh striking flesh ceased the enriched clamor behind him, it only strengthened his resolve. Rhys didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know what had happened. Liquid magma licked at his insides

He drew the stun baton with bloodied fingers, keeping pressure on Vaughn's wound with his robotic hand. The weapon crackled to life.

 _So ... fight off this Jack-ified monster, grab Vaughn, save Sasha, and get the hell outta here in one piece. Sounds good. I've got this._ Except he was doubting his own thought. Escaping without being blown into bite-sized chunks first was ... improbable.

The Sirenvesselthing approached with heaving, steaming growls and a luminous glower in its bright yellow orbs. Rhys drew in a shaky breath and gulped. "P-Piss off, will you? You - you, uh ... " Something witty, something witty ... He had several choice words for Handsome Jack - if he really was _in there_ \- and not a single one of them was funny or sarcastic. _Screw it_. Rhys flailed the stun stick, drawing up every ounce of confidence into a singular smug smirk that he'd once used on a gun-toting Vasquez and the skag-faced Vallory. "You ... dethroned king of _scrap metal_."

It wasn't something to say at a stand-up comedy tour but it certainly struck home. When the monster lashed out with shadowy claws, knocking the baton clean out of his fleshy fingers without effort, Rhys wasn't sure pissing it off was the _best_ idea. He laughed nervously.

"Is _that_ what I said? I meant - "

It bent forwards, cutting loose a seal-bark and crouching low with dangerous arms extended at either side. It lunged. Rhys found himself forced into a panicked Plan B. _Run like the wind!_

He could feel the wind nip along his back as the monster cleared over Vaughn to stab at where Rhys had been seconds before. He could hear its agitated grunt as it pivoted to a new trajectory. The cyberman spun briefly to evaluate his friend's safety and was greeted with how shockingly quick the Siren Vessel was at his heels. Vaughn was fine - the monster held no interest in his incapacitated friend. But Rhys wasn't so lucky.

Rhys yelped. Trying to slip back into the Legion crowd rewarded him with a new dance routine as bullets sung at his feet. He scanned the ground for something useful among the disassembled Captures. There were broken gun parts and a machete with half the blade snapped off. Jumping over bits and pieces of the Fat Man destroyed by its own explosion, Rhys watched the RADS spike in his Synth eye and mellow down to something more manageable when he put more distance between him and it.

"Come _on_ , gimme _something_!"

Hello, divine intervention! His foot kicked an intact pistol. It skid ahead of him. Rhys leaped for it just as claws raked against the inside of his right knee accompanied by hot pain. Warm liquid dribbled onto his calf.

The force of his body striking hard earth temporarily dulled the agony he should have been feeling. Clasping a gun was a definitely new sensation. He didn't know if it was loaded or if it was cocked or whatever, but he rolled onto his back, aimed it with trembling fingers, hoped for the best, and pulled the trigger.

Rhys was prepared for an explosion so loud it would make his eardrums question their role in life.

He had no experience with guns, but he was still pretty sure a _click!_ was a very, very bad thing.

"Oh ... ," he puled, paling. "Oh ... that's - _hggh!_ "

Shadowy tendrils of fingers were upon him, encircled his throat and shoving his skull hard into the earth. The grasp wasn't so firm that Rhys was inhibited from breathing, but being unable to move his head with the Siren-gone-Handsome Jack's partial stranglehold threatening to tighten was equally terrifying. It clambered atop him, immobilizing Rhys' left arm by boring a knee into the fleshy part of his bicep. He was slammed with such a strong stench of burning blood that his cheeks puffed with pending vomit. (Rhys swallowed remorsefully and with some difficulty. That was the _last_ thing he wanted all over him.) The Siren's smoldering flesh was like an overbearing sun. Heat penetrated through his suit, singing his own skin so much that he writhed beneath the monster in a last-ditch effort to get away.

" _Geroff_ ," Rhys croaked, wind pushing through the faint pressure on his trachea.

The monster did not comply. Instead it raised its free arm. Rhys watched pale blue electricity charge from the drive to an extended finger. Those yellow eyes squinted almost gleefully, glowing maw twisting into what could have been a satisfied smirk. The pulsating digit drifted painstakingly towards Rhys' digiport augmentation, reveling in the slowly dawning horror that exploded on its captive's face.

"Nn _nn_ , _hyuuu_ ," he wheezed. His robotic arm was still free. Rhys grabbed the Siren's arm with some dread, struggling to push back the insurmountable force that was the endless power of the beast sitting atop his chest.

Jack could have easily flooded his cybernetics with electricity, halting movement of his robotic arm by simply over encumbering the wires within. He chose instead to bite down on the titanium alloy wrist. Teeth that Rhys didn't know were there chomped down harder than was physically possible. Metal cracked. Fiber optics and connective plates splintered. Rhys' arm fell limp in a now smiling jaw as a small fleck of lightning traced down the Siren's face to lick the scratched silver.

It only lasted a few seconds, but in the connection forged by touching electricity to metal hard-wired into his central nervous system, Rhys could hear the familiar laugh of the big HJ himself. _"_ _ **Dethroned**_ _, kiddo? Ahh, you're so stupid. I'm about to give you a rude awakening."_

And somewhere deeper, the subdued voice of a woman weakly whispering, _"This isn't right this isn't - "_

That's right. He'd almost forgotten. This wasn't Jack. This was something being manipulated by Jack through a drive embedded by their spine. This was some _one_ probably acting against their will.

Not that it mattered right now.

Because with the electrical finger growing closer to touching his head port, with blood pulsing through Rhys' ears and Sasha hollering somewhere in the distance, he was about to _lose_. A tightening constriction about his throat and the pending darkness of unconsciousness would have been a mercy compared to being forced to watch his body being taken over all over again - and Rhys realized with acidic regret that it was Jack's desire to have him _see everything_ that kept the strangle-happy Hyperion boss from choking him out.

Rhys braced for the coming scuffle for mental dominance until a loud _BANG!_ reminded his earlier expectant eardrums what a gun was _supposed_ to sound like and corrosive acid exploded in the Siren Vessel's face. It scuttled backwards, squealing, trying to brush the sickly green material off only to wind up brutally t-boned by the moving boulder that was Brick's fist.

"Who ordered a knuckle sandwich?! HA!"

Blue light encompassed Rhys. He felt himself being carried from whence he came, dumped carefully beside Vaughn's prone, almost lifeless body. Maya stood above him, tribal tattoos glowing white and electric blue wings sparkling with dark energy sprouting from her back. Her eyes became half-lidded and she smirked. "Sorry we're late. The others are on their way."

Rhys couldn't help himself. His mouth formed into a small 'o'. "I'm not gonna lie," he mumbled, dumbfounded, with a finger pointing to the vestigial feathery manifestations that dissipated along with the fettering of her tribal markings, "that was _cool_."

She raised a brow. "I forgot you've never seen a Siren in action before."

He looked at the shadowed monster being pummeled helplessly by the Slab King. "That might not be _entirely_ true."

Boots scurried to his side. It took him a moment to realize the corrosive bullet came from Fiona's Roshambo - a fact only made evident by the gold-plated gun's exposure from under her sleeve. The new Vault Hunter retracted it as she drew near, drawing up the laser rifle MacCready gifted her as a temporary replacement. "What the hell happened here?" she demanded hastily, lifting Rhys to his feet. His screaming at the extension of his wounded leg caused Fiona to release him regretfully. "Sorry - you're hur - "

"Fi," he wheezed through the horrendous agony presenting itself in lieu fading endorphins, "Sasha - she's - " Rhys gesticulated wildly to the crowd of Legionnaires behind them ... the very same crowd that was unholstering their weapons and preparing to fight the unwelcome intruders.

Fiona nodded. Her face was flustered crimson and her fists clenched tight. No remorse was to be found for those awaiting her. In the hailstorm of bullets that followed, Fiona demonstrated that being a con artist was not without its perks, and nimble-footedness was definitely among them.

The back of his leg was bounding, but Rhys controlled his breathing and focused on Vaughn instead. As much as he wanted to inspect his own injury, he wasn't sure he could stomach the feel of torn sinew on himself. It was hard enough to see his friend with a wide gap extending from his left nipple to under his arm, presenting pearly white bones that were ribs poking through ripped muscle. Maya removed Vaughn's jacket, sliding it beneath Rhys' only properly functioning hand as a makeshift dressing to both cover the injury and absorb the blood.

"He's really ripped for a short dude," she commented by way of lightening the atmosphere. On the norm, Rhys would make a terrible joke and laugh when nobody else would. Right now smiling was impossible, but he wasn't without appreciating the effort.

"How'd you find us?"

Brick landed several more critical strikes on the Siren Vessel. It wheeled, roared, and prepared a rebounding attack when Mordecai fired on it from the hillside with a high-caliber round that sent it reeling. The Legion soldiers went in for the attack, stalled only by the raising of Lanius' hand and the command of, "Leave them to fight the Siren. This will be a test."

"Something like a Siren distress signal. The readout was immense ... stronger than Lilith's." Pallor oculars watched the combat take place with uncertain anticipation. "Which proves Lilith's hypothesis about a Siren being here. But they're not supposed to look like that - and what the **hell** possessed _you_ to come out here?"

"We overheard you at the Institute. Sasha was worried." He hesitated. "So was I."

"You shouldn'tve. We've dealt with worse."

The corner of his lips tweaked feebly upwards. "Yeah."

"Danse's crew hit a snag out in the Glowing Sea. Place they found was a trap rigged to blow. We found 'em as they were escaping. A bunch of these zombie things attacked them on the way to the buzzards. They'll be here any minute."

Vaughn was growing paler by the minute. Rhys' hammering heartbeat was becoming unbearable painful. "Good, we need to get out of here - like, _immediately_." No better evac than a vertibird, right? One that could relay? "That Handsome Jack drive we told you about? It's in the Siren. I'm _pretty damned sure_ it's controlling it."

"I ... don't think that's a Siren." Rhys shot Maya a puzzled look, but she shook her head and pointed to the ongoing battle between Brick and Mordecai. The Siren bleated them with a fireball. Zer0 appeared to cleave _through_ it with his sword like a true badass. "I mean, _yeah_ , it kinda is, but the markings ... You see the way they're just going _wherever_ on the body? That's not supposed to happen. And the way those blinking markings are just staying stationary on its belly? That's not ... _Fuck_ , I may have heard of something like this. But it was only heresay from Lilith and she's not even sure of the full scoop - "

"What?"

"Well, _fuck_ , you ever heard of Handsome Jack's first wife?" Rhys nodded. Maya rolled her eyes. "Right. He co-piloted with you. Of course you have. Well his kid ... Angel, you know the one that got her mom killed? Lilith did some research on Sirens and well, Angel didn't really ... " The blue-haired Siren in a jumpsuit fumbled fantastically over her words, thinking too quickly to say them correctly.

In the meantime, the Siren Vessel howled. A well-place punch from Brick sent it careening backwards into a tree on a northbound hill with such force that the electric device (which by some unfortunate circumstance did _not_ shatter as it probably should have) speared further into the beast's body until the tip of the elongated lance pierced through the chest. The Legionnaires previously occupying that spot scattered out of harm's way.

"You're all over the place," Rhys told Maya in a hasty, anxious voice. Blood wasn't flowing as fiercely from Vaughn's wound as it had before, but the bandit king was still pale and his breathing was still rapid.

"Right - ah - so baby Sirens have a pre-determined _main_ power, but their elemental output - like Lilith's control over fire and mine over electricity - isn't designated until birth. And baby rattlesnakes - "

"How did we go from Sirens to snakes?"

"Just listen, okay? Baby rattlesnakes are the most dangerous because they can't control the amount of venom they put out when they bite something. The same goes for Sirens in the womb. They can't control their power, but they will do anything they can to preserve their own survival. So when the mother is on the verge of death or critically endangered, the embryo will kind of ... _lash out_ by means of imbuing the one carrying it with their abilities, thus ensuring they can be carried to full-term and born. But sometimes, you know, the put _too much_ power out because they can't contain it properly, and that lack of restraint puts too much strain on the mother's body and can actually kill them. Lilith thinks that's how Angel's mom died. Except it happened during labor, not during any of the terms."

Rhys thought about the voice he'd heard in that brief, electrical connection. Gears in his brain started to spin. Between the anxieties of his best friend in danger of bleeding to death and his girlfriend under assault of Legion soldiers with her sister came an almost gut-wrenching pang of guilt. "You think that's ... ?"

Maya nodded confirmation to his unfinished question. "Yeah. And I think it's pretty damned close to burning out the mom unless it can be stopped."

"How can you stop it?"

"First step is to get the drive out. Second step is ... well, it won't be me." Maya shook her head. "It will be Lilith. She knows these techniques. Studied a bunch of shit. She can seal the baby's energy."

Familiar flaming wings appeared on the horizon - swaying embers flapping through clouds of smoke.

Simultaneously, Rhys was allowed a flood of relief spurred from Sasha's jeering hoots and Fiona's thrilled-by-the-killing laugh. His partner-in-crime was not only released from the rope binding her, but managed to pluck an SMG from one of the skirt-clad corpses riddling the ground. She and Fiona plowed through the remaining Legionnaires in a flurry of lasers and rapid-fire bullets, slowly making their way to the blue-haired Siren and the Atlas CEO.

When their path was clear, Sasha sprinted to Rhys. Her arms wrapping around his kneeled form from behind and her warm cheek pressing against his ushered in a burst of warmth that quelled some of the chill in his quaking heart. "Holy shit, Rhys! Did it ... are you okay?"

He thought about the slash on his leg and wished he hadn't. "Just a flesh wound," he told her with mock confidence, straying a glance at her face. Happiness immediately dropped to a furious frown. An angry red welt decorated Sasha's right cheek. "They - they - "

" - aren't breathing anymore," Fiona finished for him. She stepped alongside her sister, throwing a knowing wink Rhys' way. A viscous kind of satisfaction bubbled inside. It made him uncomfortable.

In the blink of an eye, Sasha was on her knees on Vaughn's opposite side. She felt for a carotid pulse and made a face. "He's ... We should get to the caravan. Head back."

Fiona was reluctant. Protective. "You two go ahead. We'll cover you." She was staring onward at the hundred or so armed men raring to vault into the fight.

"Fi - "

"Let the _Vault Hunters_ handle this, Sash. Seriously, have a little faith in me will ya?"

The argument wavered temporarily on the sister's lips. Fiona bounded off before it had a chance to be spoken, Maya in tow. Rhys touched her hand with warm fingers. "Sasha ... "

She breathed in deep. "I know ... Let's go."

His robotic limb wasn't completely useless but half of the palm and half of the fingers weren't responding as they should. Still, it wasn't difficult scooping Vaughn up. He teetered carefully, unwilling to flex his friend's injury more than advisable. Sasha took up the mantle as guard dog, blitzing her weapon any time a Legionnaire got close. For the moment, held back by Caesar Lanius' command, none approached.

They still didn't get far.

* * *

She was aware of exactly two things.

One was the protrusion through her chest - the tip of something very long and very sharp that sparked every now and again in response to the activities without.

The other was the incorrigible vexation that came along with it: the crowing in her mind; the laughter at the fight; the manipulation of her own limbs not necessarily against her own desires. On the surface she was right there with the mystery manifestation in the cheering of bloodletting. Deeper beneath stirred an unsettled emotion. _This isn't right._

_"C'mon kitten, you know you're lovin' this!"_

_This isn't right._ But her body obeyed every command. Invigorated by the stench of gunpowder and the taste of metal, Nora shoved off the tree she'd been hurled remorselessly into. Her immediate gift was to be attacked by a sword-wielding ninja. Claws furled about the blade, fingers spit open in the process but her grip remained steady. She removed the weapon from the ninja's grip and turned it upon him. The helmet was decapitated and the carcass faltered listlessly, vanishing before it made contact with the dry, ash-covered soil. It reappeared somewhere in the distance. An illusion?

Frustration boiled in her veins. A bullet rang off her right shoulder, ripping through muscle and slipping out the other side. Through the healing steam she could see the body of a sniper. She sliced into the barrel of his gun and then went for his torso, but the limber man was just as stealthy as his ninja counterpart, leaping backwards and out of harm's way in the nick of time.

The muscular hulk wasn't so lucky. He charged with full momentum and Nora took the brunt of it, pushing back with her own incredible force while grappling his arms. His shocked expression barely registered in her mind as he was thrown unceremoniously into a thicket of thorned brambles, bouncing and rolling like a bowling ball until his thickened bodice was thrust upon a rock wall.

Fire erupted on her chest. Then acid. She screeched discontent, maneuvering like a spider up the earlier tree, whereupon she arched her back and bellowed a roar. Vision locked on a group in the distance. All were familiar, but one struck the manifestation's fancy more than the others. It was the same one she'd grappled with earlier. The same one that stoked a smoldering pyre into a blistering inferno.

Lips curled back. If she were capable of speech, it would have slipped out with a serpentine hiss. _"Rhyyyyysieee."_

Like a bomb wound up and ready to launch, she propelled from the branches at top notch speeds. The ninja jumped in the way. She ran him through with his own sword, this time striking real flesh, and carried on airborne while the enemy's lithe remains clattered down below.

Nora drew back a fist. It slammed heavy into firm terrain. Dreadlocks was flung aside by the impact. Half-Robot shouted something, started to run after the dark-skinned ragdoll with Buff Beard cradled in his arms but she caught him by the back of his collared shirt and yanked him back. Golden Pistol jumped onto her back. She used a free arm to tear her free and flick her casually into the surrounding crowd of soldiers.

"Phaselock!"

Suddenly she wasn't grabbing anything anymore. A darkened void of blackness lifted her into the air, consumed her in a pulsating orb illuminated only by the markings of her belly. Struggling would do no good. Her limbs wouldn't move even under the command of another being.

 _"Blue bitch Siren."_ The ire was strong. Rage, unquestionable. Despite the confines, she pushed and pulled. _"You had a kid, didn'cha? This freakin' cunt, she killed mine. My angel. My little girl. You know what that's like, right? With your son?"_

A kid?

A ... son?

 _Shaun_. The name permeated the darkness but there was no face for it to associate with that made any sense. A child. An old man. _This isn't right._ But she shoved anyway, invoked by a hidden, burning torch, adding unknown strength. The barrier broke. Limbs exploded from their restrictions. Darkness absolved itself into light.

A voice from below uttered in disbelief, "That's ... that's impossible."

_"Stare in shock and awe, baby. Though it'll be kinda hard to do when I gouge your eyes out."_

Attention was retracted from the Half-Robot, transferred to Blue Hair. Nora delivered a mean right hook to her face and felt bones shatter against darkened claws. Blue Hair fell backwards and Nora set upon her. Something like disgust and bile rose into her throat - _This isn't right_ \- as she enclosed shadowed fingers around the upper half of Blue Hair's skull, thumbs atop the eyes, pressing down -

"GET OFF!"

"MAYA! **MAYA**!"

\- and they popped and oozed and Maya was screaming, twisting beneath her but she kept going until claws lanced gray matter. Then Blue Hair wasn't moving anymore.

_Stop._

_"We're just getting started, kitten! Kick back, grab some pretzels, and laugh at the hilarity! These guys, heh! So_ _**dumb** _ _! You'd think they'd know better than to mess with Handsome - "_

A bloody Ninja threw himself at her. So did Muscle Man and Sniper. Nora felt energy warm her throat.

_" - fucking - "_

_Stop._

The glow caressing her face was blinding. Nora wanted to slam her eyes shut. The manifestation forced them to stay open.

_" -_ _**JACK** _ _!"_

_STOP._

Her mouth opened when she didn't want to. Her voice was screaming when she wanted it silenced. Muscle Man, Ninja, and Sniper were caught in the shrill blast. There one moment, gone the next. Not vaporized to aged dust like the last time. Just _gone_. Vanished. _Poof_.

It disturbed her, bothered her. It wasn't normal and she hated it and wanted it to stop, but Nora didn't know why. In the momentary laxness that followed Handsome Jack's victory, she regained brief control of her own limbs and felt for the tip of the spear penetrating her chest wall. Springing with deep-seated self-loathing, Nora grabbed and pulled. She felt it shift inside. Pain sprang through her ribs - it was wedged between them.

And Jack became aware of the mild resistance. _"Now, that's no way to treat someone who's sticking their neck out for you, is it?"_ Sharp jolts of electricity zapped their shared body, blindsided her nervous system. Nora's arms dropped to the side as she seized uncontrollably. They were returned to the ownership of the madman inhabiting her brain. _"The world'll be a better place without those bandits, believe me. Ya might not see it now, but you'll definitely get to witness the results."_

 _Not bandits,_ her subjugated subconscious uttered from the darkened, neglected corners of a frayed mind. _Not ..._

Half-Robot placed Buff Beard down gently and searched frantically for something on the ground. He returned to attention with the stun baton from earlier. Dreadlocks was on her feet wielding a submacine gun. Neither looked confident, but at least Dreadlocks wasn't shaking with the intensity of a magnitude 8.0 earthquake. Nora stepped towards them, jaw propping open, tongue lolling over sharpened teeth, something like drool sizzling to steam before it could drop very far from her maw.

A laser blazed her thigh. She swung outwards with her right arm, claws grazing skin and drawing blood. Golden Gun jumped aside to avoid further injury but Nora was advancing too quickly for the steampunk chick to dodge.

_"Oh that's a good plan of action! Kill his friend first. Slaughter the girlfriend. Then the kiddo won't have a fighting bone left in his useless little body!"_

Jack would have been right. Probably. She didn't know. Even with the corner of her manipulated mind yelling, begging to stop where she stood, a much stronger inclination was tenacious about survival by crushing all opposition. The Legionnaires watched on all sides, awestruck with stars in their eyes. Lanius wanted them to watch, and they would be treated with one **hell** of a show.

_"It's gonna suck leaving this body though. Shit, man, all this_ _**power** _ _is just ... whew! I could really get used to this! But you know - Vault business is my business. And we've got a loooot of work to do."_

Rather than remain walking on two legs, she dropped to all four. Approaching Golden Gun was like cornering a scared git with a rabid dog. To her credit, the girl didn't run. But her wide eyes and open-mouthed stare made the fear plaintively clear.

Nora jumped for her, claws aimed at her throat.

And the Firehawk caught her in the side while she was midair, the barbarity of her strike knocking the wind clean out of Nora's lungs and crushing several ribs. Her hapless, shadowed form spun and weaved. She skid to a halt several feet from her destination, the corpses of several dead Legionnaires and Captures acting as brakes.

Nora could not place the figure with dissipating red wings and flaming hair. But as she climbed somewhat woozily into a quadruped position, Jack's hatred - the very same that flared during her encounter with Maya and quelled into a malicious contentment when Blue Hair's life was snuffed out - sprung into new levels: enough so that the intensity of the heat emanating off Nora's Siren Vessel carapace became enough to scorch area in her immediate vicinity.

It burned from the inside out - a white hot agony limited to Nora and only Nora, because Jack's scalding irascibility was not altered from pain. He opened her mouth for him, hissing sounds coming together to rasp a single acidic word that dripped as much venom as the heated blood that poured from her outstretched mandible.

" ... Lil ... _ith_ ... "

It wasn't her voice.

Wasn't ...

And Lilith recognized it far too readily. Her features contorted into a mixture of shock and outrage.

"Jack."


	17. Helter Skelter

Lilith was their beacon through the haze. Their **only** beacon. And that was a matter of contempt for all of them.

Her only shining moment broke through when they were assaulted at the front doors of the toy shipping facility by a horde of feral ghouls. Even then, she seemed more content on incinerating the enemy than actually coming to their aid: far too trigger happy. Lilith's blue-haired counterpart and her two friends were far more accomodating. And they were just in time.

Carving a path from the shipping facility to the vertibirds was a gory affair of strewn limbs howling monsters, but they were able to get airborn in mostly one piece before the Deathclaws and Radscorpions descended upon them. Sure there were scratches and bites, but this was no zombie epidemic and there would be no subsequent murderous infection running rampant among their ranks.

Maya flew off on a set of wings - _wings_ , of all things! - conjured from thin air, screeching something about a catastrophe to the north. Brick, Mordecai, and Zer0 followed in a third vertibird (albeit shakily so, dipping dangerously close to the ground and damn near striking several broken buildings) while the rest of the group minus Lilith gawked in stunned silence.

Wings.

People didn't have wings.

"That's because we are _Sirens_ ," scoffed Lilith with a sneer, as though this was common knowledge understood by all. Then she manifested fiery feathers of her own and ascended after the Pandoran travelers.

They were left with two choices: to follow Lilith, or retreat back to the Institute with the small victory of acquiring Nora's sword (currently carried by Cait, the only other melee heavy-hitter less prone than Strong to break things) being their only accomplishment. The ensuing debate split them almost down the middle.

 _"She t'inks she's th' hottest shite, let 'er run 'er own sho n' get killed doin' it,"_ Cait growled. Murmurs over their communication devices indicated agreement from Hancock, MacCready, and Deacon. Danse felt more agreeable with them.

"Strong like tough lady." Coming from a Super Mutant who only an hour ago tried to beat some manners into the red-haired vixen, that statement was ... not completely without merit, actually, considering the source. "Want to see lady in action! Maybe join fight!" He smashed his fists together for emphasis.

"A savage for a savage," Danse sighed to himself, his slip of the tongue gracefully unnoticed. The Elder may have become more accepting to their mutual existence on the same planet, but hard-wired programming (and the prejudice he'd been trained to hold dear) were difficult to erase overnight.

Piper's voice swung into life. It pried through the heckle loudly, drawing attention to herself like a good reporter should. _"Not that I don't think she should get a good ass-beating, but it might be in our best interest to, oh I don't know, follow her?"_

_"What makes you think that?"_

_"Lilith's a bitch, but Maya's not that bad. And she's the one who took the lead, right?"_

"If we turned down every civilian who approached us with a nasty attitude," Preston pitched in, "we'd get nowhere fast." With a careful sidelong glance, he added in a lower voice, "I mean ... take Cait for instance ... "

 _"The hell'dya say, minute-long man!?"_ barked the Irish woman with a dangerous flex of her arm. Preston flushed. MacCready's frown broke into a laughter riding high with Deacon's and Hancock's smirk was a mile-long.

"Well then ... "

"I woulda thought you'd have more stamina than that, boyo!"

"Look now, it was one time and I just - "

" - Got a little too worked up over her, ahem, _unorthodox_ methods? She can get a little heavy on the whip sometimes." If Hancock was on the same vertibird as Cait, he ould have winked at her. "Maybe not hard _enough_ for me, mmm?" he purred.

Cait wriggled her eyebrows into the com. _"I'll be sure n' fix t'at next time."_

Piper's face grew more and more horrified when Hancock hummed a very satisfied, "Same Ghoul face, same Ghoul place."

 _"Can we just - ,"_ the reporter started to groan. MacCready was holding his sides, his face red from unbridled amusement. Codsworth joined Nick in shaking his head slowly from side to side.

_"Mhhhmm, Hancock. N' we might need ta find some 'igher ceilin's. T'ere's sumthin' I wanna try wit' ya."_

" _Ooooooooooh_? What's that?"

_"It involves a swing."_

_"Wow, can we please, like, never hear this conversation again?"_

Danse was almost stunned into silence. Almost. The mental visual was making him reel. "This is **disgusting**. Cease this conversation at once. I don't want to hear ... I don't think _anybody_ wants to hear your - your fornication stories, Hancock, Cait."

The Goodneighbor mayor happily jeered on, thumbing a vial of Psycho from his redcoat pockets. " _Chh_! Don't be such a spoilsport cuz you n' Nora never hit that note." Nick was watching the Brotherhood Elder's expression while the Ghoul went on. He gestured frantically for Hancock to shut up, but the latter wasn't paying any mind. "Wouldn't that kinda be an aberration for you anyhow? Physical relations with a Synth - "

Danse dropped the vertibird's nose so harshly that Strong, Nick, Codsworth, and Preston had to hold on for dear lives. Hancock was caught by surprise, his nimble form rocketing into the cockpit where Danse pinned him against the console by his neck with one strong arm while leveling the aircraft with the other. The Elder was no longer wearing his helmet. Bright red synthetic blood pumped through the artificial capillaries in his face, giving it a cherry red complexion. Danse was confident enough in his flight skills to look away from the windshield. He brought his face so close to Hancock's that the Ghoul could smell his breath.

" **Do not** ," he glowered threateningly, "bring my personal relationship into question like that again. It's all about sex to you, isn't it? Nora is different than the strangers you bed. She - she means more to me than you can possibly **imagine** \- "

Hancock clearly wasn't catching on. Or he didn't care. Idle hands jabbed the Psycho into his own arm and his pupils became little pinpoints. "Sounds like someone's," he wheezed, "still a virgin."

Power Armor fingers clasped tightly around Hancock's throat. Disfigured flesh turned started to turn a hideous shade of violet when Nick pried them off the Ghoul's throat with surprising Synth strength. "I think he gets the point, Danse. Go easy on the strangling - he doesn't have that many brain cells left, after all."

The Elder released with a huff. Hancock rubbed at the sore spots. "Thanks, Nicky. You're a real - _oof_!"

Valentine shoved him to the back of the vertibird with a scowl. "You need to watch your words, Hancock." He turned to Danse, stepping closer. "And _you_ ," he added in a much softer voice, "need to mind your attitude. You just formed an alliance. Getting carried away with your anger can ruin everything you're trying to build up."

Danse didn't respond. His eyes were set dead ahead. Crimson cheeks remained bright and glowing. Nick rubbed the bridge of his leathery nose with metallic claws. The co-pilot seat remained vacant. He took it.

"I know you're frustrated. Hell, we all are, but acting out like that isn't going to get you any farther. And you know Nora wouldn't approve." His frown lightened at the smallest flicker of emotion dancing across the former Paladin's face. "We're going to find her. And then you're going to talk to her. And things will be ... normal for the first time in a long time."

Silence.

The vertibird swung after Lilith's flaming wings. "We're going to follow her, then?"

"Nora wouldn't leave others to go off into uncharted territory," mumbled the Elder. "I believe she would say, 'Don't send somebody to do something you wouldn't go and do yourself.'"

"Really? I thought it would be more like, 'Goddamnit, Danse! I'm going to help whether you like it or not!' Then come back with about five pounds worth of lead buried in her and say it was nothing."

Danse chuckled. Nick smiled in relief.

The two vertibirds flew high in the overshadowed sky. There was no way to tell if the sun was setting but by the reflection off tar-riddled smoke's gradual shift from gold to orange. Dying embers gave light where the hot darkness of unburned combustibles did not. Lightning snapped across the clouds ahead. Whether those deadly bolts were from a naturally occurring storm or the product of unbalanced electrical charges unleashed from the smoldering ruins below was a matter of perception.

The conflagration line stopped some ten miles outside of ground zero but the abundance of dry, rotted flora, fauna, and scrap provided the fire fuel enough to spread towards Concord. For whatever reason, it had stopped there, simmering to budding plumes and dying when their last resources ran out. Birthed smoke knew no such boundaries and blanketed the entire locale, becoming a suffocating blanket that spread in all directions.

Danse disliked flying in these weather conditions. With low visibility, it was ill-conceived. He would have preferred to linger in a higher atmospheric layer but doing so would force him to lose sight of Lilith's fiery luminescence. And they couldn't go any lower. Tha would put them in line of sight for any bogies waiting to take them down - assuming there were enemies nearby at all. At least the radiation level was decreasing with the increased distance from Chestnut Hillock Reservoir's crater.

Lightning slipped past the front vertibird's whirring rotors. Lilith's flaming presence vanished beneath the smoky cloud cover. Danse followed after her, dropping his flying machine from its hiding place in the bottom layer of thick smoke.

MacCready was on high alert. He called through the comm, _"Muties to the south!"_

A band of Super Mutants was marching slowly northward from what was left of the Greygarden, mutant hounds sniffing the terrain beneath their plodding, massive feet. Several miles behind them was a line of moving trees. MacCready had to use binoculars to make the mass out.

_"Holy crap, are those the ferals from the Sea?"_

_"Shit, you mean they followed us?"_

_"Feckin' zeds."_

Danse felt a rock form in his gut. While the Glowing Sea was normally home to an abnormal amount of ghouls and other abnormalities, the recent detonation of the five megaton bomb had just recently added to their numbers. How many of the creepers hording out there came from settlements in the Commonwealth that couldn't be saved in time? Human until one fateful flash of light and heat?

"How far out?" he called through the comm.

 _"The Super Mutes, maybe two miles,"_ MacCready confirmed. _"Ghouls are about five. aybe six. We got some time."_

Time was good. The scenery was not.

Danse could recognize the Red Rocket refuelling station as well as anybody else. It was left completely unscathed with its possibly-still-functioning turrets and junk walls, water pumps and small crops of carrots and tatos. _Fantastic._ So it was safe to assume Lilith was leading them towards Sanctuary Hills. The bridge to it appeared ahead of them. The settlement did not.

 _"Oh my god ... ,"_ was Piper's aghast whisper. An uneasy quietness settled in the vertibirds.

Preston ruptured it. "What ... what happened? This wasn't - the settlement was - it was here when we evac-ed. The fire line didn't come this far. It couldn't - what did - ?"

Instead of buildings was a flattened landscape with piles of rubble forming an uneven circle around what had once been the town's center. The massive tree (nicknamed Golly by some of the settler children) was ripped in half, splintering in spots and completely obliterated in others. The industrial water pump was on its side, the turrets in pieces, the walls shredded to toothpicks and slabs of twisted steel.

But there were plenty of people. Too many people. Danse was unfamiliar with the garb but he knew a military-based faction when he saw one. "Double back," he commanded Deacon.

_"Double back?"_

"If we fly directly overhead, we'll be openly inviting them to shoot at us."

_"They might not be hostile."_

"Take a good look at the area and repeat that back to me," Danse told him bitterly. Deacon couldn't reply. Nick rubbed his temples and moaned his shock. "Double back and we'll advance from the sides. We have to make sure our escape is secured."

The vertibird Brick, Mordecai, and Zer0 took was off behind a dune that was once the eastern watchtower but the Vault Hunters were nowhere in sight. Danse spun his freight in that direction. Deacon began to swing the same way.

 _"Hey - hold up! Wait!"_ MacCready was shouting fervently. His distress brought Danse to attention. _"I see Fiona!"_

"There's Rhys and Sasha," Nick pointed a metal digit to the ground. "And the muscled tiny guy - Vaughn. They look pretty beat up, don't you think?"

 _"It iz imperative, Monsieur Danse, zat I asseest zem as soon as possible."_ Curie's tone was always so awestruck. Now it was laced with concern. _"I see too much blood. Zat man eez not moving."_

_"Bring us back over, Deacs! We gotta drop in!"_

_"Mac, they'll blast us out the goddamn sky!"_

_"They've seen us already and haven't shot yet!"_

Strong lurched to the mounted minigun and peered downwards. "Strong will shoot first!"

"Strong ain't gonna shoot first!" snapped Hancock, dragging the heavily muscled arm back with great resistance. "I wanna do some more shit before I die, big guy! Goin' down in a blazing chopper ain't one of 'em!"

 _"Holy feck, ain't t'at th' other one - Maya? Th' fuck 'appened to 'er?"_ Cait was more shocked than heartbroken. None of them had known the blue-haired Siren for longer than a day, but the Combat Zone veterean was least likely to show remorse for a stranger.

 _"Looks like big, black, and mysterious got ahold of her,"_ Piper said. _"What ... what is that?"_

Lilith was dead center, facing off against a creature that looked human in anatomical build only. It was as if the shadows had taken the form of a person. Not far from them was a hulking man (at least Danse assumed it as a man) clad in golden armor and wearing a mask. He was observing the interaction taking place along with the rest of the army. No guns were blazing. No orders were being issues. Several faces turned upwards. Amongst the war paint and headdresses was a unified gaze of curious hatred that chilled the fluids lubricating his metal joints.

"Double **back** , Deacon. That's an order! Robert, you are a _sniper_ and don't fare well in close combat. You can get along the perimeter and scope from the sidelines, unseen."

 _"To hell with you, Danse,"_ bit MacCready. But he didn't parachute down or try to neglect the objective a second time.

"Don't cluster the vertibirds too closely together when you land, Deacon. If one of them gets set off - "

"Which they often do," Nick's voice dribbled sarcasm.

" - we don't need all of them exploding."

He would have loved nothing more to drop in, pluck the captives, and mosey their way back to the Institute as fast as humanly possible. But to dive into an unknown situation with hostages involved was a dangerous pastime he was not willing to undertake. And from the number of bodies splattered across the broken concrete of Sanctuary Hills' ghost, this was not going to be a cakewalk.

Not for the first time since its destruction, Danse wished he could call in air support from the Prydwen.

* * *

The Legionnaires watched in passing as the vertbirds split paths across the sky - one left and one right. Guns were raised. A Fat Man cocked. Caesar Lanius dismissed them, once again, witht he raising of his gauntlet.

"Not yet."

Lilith was in a staring match. Fiery irises locked with glowing yellow sockets. When she dared to move her gaze, it flickered between Maya's blinded corpse and the monster that felled her. Lips pulled back - not into a grimace, not into a smile, but into a frown that wrinkled her whole face into the epitome of fury.

"You said he was dead." Cold. Harsh.

It took Rhys several seconds to realize, through the relentless trembling that was his own frightened hide, that she was talking to him. Quaking fingers dropped the baton. He was hesitant to pick it up, unwilling to take his eyes off the scene. It didn't matter that Sasha was next to im with a loaded submachine gun, or Fiona lurked nearby with her triple-powered pea-shooter. They were surrounded on all sides with an angry monster and an angrier Siren before them.

He swallowed hard. "I thought he was."

" _Thought_ he was?"

"Well, it's - ah - r-really complic-cated."

Lilith's fingers itched for her gun - an obnoxiously large pistol with a glowing green grip and illuminated striped of neon lime plastered about the smooth barrel. Corrosive. " _Complicated_?" she laughed mirthlessly. "I'll tell you what isn't. You're here. Jack's here. Maya's dead. You aren't."

Ice tickled Rhys' back. He stumbled backwards. Sasha took his place, SMG raised. She nudged the stun baton to him with a foot but he still couldn't bring himself to scoop it up. "It isn't what you think."

"Really? Because what it looks like is a conspiracy." Lilith drew the weapon. She pulled the hammer back. "Prove me wrong."

"Stick around," Fiona rumbled. It terrified her more to be pointing her gun at Lilith. The Vessel seemed more attentive of what the fire-Siren was up to than attacking anybody else. She didn't like that her hands were shaking and went to great lengths to stiffen them.

"I'm disappointed that they've actually got you _thinking_ he's _innocent_. As a Vault Hunter, you're supposed to be more _perceptive_ about these things."

Fiona's frown was palpable. "Says the one who got duped by Angel?"

The Siren Vessel-that-was-Jack kicked into low gear, spinning on its heels to face the newbie. It snarled, tribal patterns flashing across the whole body threateningly. Lilith took advantage of Fiona's ensuing backpedal to point her weapon at Rhys and fire a shot. The CEO squeaked. Fiona yelled. Sasha jumped in front of him.

And the Siren Vessel stepped before all of them to absorb the acidic ballistic into its shoulder. Pain wasn't a thing it reacted to. There was a sickening audio of flesh melting from a strong chemical and healing instantaneously in a billow of steam. Lilith's face screwed into that of a detective who'd solved a great crime.

"And he just _conveniently_ keeps you safe from getting shot, is that it?"

Rhys' mouth popped open and closed like a goldfish. Words just couldn't pass the growing knot in his throat.

Jack had no problem speaking on his behalf, though it wasn't what the new Atlas manager wanted to say. Not at all. "You _loooooooove_ toooo taaalk, don't ya, pumpkin?" It rasped out on the wave of a growl, but it was discernable human speech in a very familiar voice, intermingled with the vocal cords of somebody else - somebody feminine.

Lilith bristled noticeable. "Don't you dare talk to me, you masochistic piece of - "

" **HA**! See? You're doing it again! All the talking. Blah blah BLAH! Do you ever just _listen_ to your stupid, pointless drabble?"

Sasha tugged at Rhys' shoulder. He was barely able to make out her words, but he saw Vaughn on the ground and the stun baton - pocketing one and carrying the other. Stunned, he managed to stumble several feet before feeling something was wrong and whirling. "Wait - the drive - "

"Leave it, Rhys - "

"No it's - the-there's somebody in there!" The stench of Vaughn's blood was strong. He felt the urge to retch. "The drive - take it out!"

If Lilith was listening, she didn't show it.

"Why don'cha put your money where your mouth is, _bandit_? Huh? Siren against Siren? That'll be a match made in hell. You'll love it! Right up your alley!"

* * *

Rhys tugged from Sasha's grip, lumping Vaughn precariously in her arms before shakily making his way back from whence he came. "Hey - Rhys - !"

Fiona sidled up beside him. She hadn't retracted Roshambo, but it was clear from her outward demeanor that she had no want to get further involved in this fight unless she had to. It looked like her hand was being forced a little. "So," she began, as if every conversation they had started in a similar manner, "what exactly are you planning?"

"The drive needs to go," he answered simply. The idea of somebody else suffering by Jack's hands was deplorable. This was a different beast but the same concept applied.

"You think that's a good idea with - you know - cybernetics?" She pointed to his robot arm.

Rhys shook his head sheepishly. His face was pale. "No."

"Great."

* * *

Lilith was popping shots at the Siren Vessel. Jack never moved. He simply stood there and absorbed the attacks, laughing, until the red-haired vixen drew back and shouted, "Why the hell aren't you fighting back?"

His responding giggle gave her chills. "Oh, like _this_?"

Light exploded from his left arm. Vines shot from extended fingertips, encasing Lilith. It didn't last long when she burned them away, but by the time fuana burned to ash he was on the move: lightning quick, launching upon her and slashing across her face. Lilith managed a dodge at the last second, slinking backwards so that the beast blasted over her and not through her.

She was on him like white on rice. Her fist collided with his backside, exploding in flames. They raced up and down the Siren Vessel's back, but those heated pyres were nothing in comparison to the already extreme body temperature the Vessel was already exhibiting. The attack was shrugged off like an annoying mosquito bite.

It launched an arm out, twisting backwards and snatching Lilith by her wrist and flinging her unceremoniously up into the air. Then the Vessel jumped after her, white markings licking from elbows to claws. A combination of fire and ice produced boiling steam. Lilith tore through it on her descent, aiming downwards with her pistol and blasting away.

* * *

Rhys hated this idea with a burning passion. Knees knocked together so fiercely that it was a small wonder the beast didn't hear him approach. Fiona was at his side, pistol set on electricity and trained on the Vessel. She didn't dare speak lest she give away their position.

Knuckles as white as his ashen complexion, Rhys reached out while the Vessel had its back turned. Fingers clasped the A.I. drive. Sucking in breaths, he gave it a sharp yank.

It was wedged in there pretty tight ... and the beast definitely noticed something wriggling between its ribs. 'Jack' whirled, the already glowing claws crashing down before Fiona could fire off a defensive shot. Rhys was suddenly shrieking, illuminated talons making contact with his chest -

\- and a blisteringly bright orb of pale blue light formed between them, swirling with high-velocity winds and exploding with a force that was neither heated or chilly. Both beast and cyborg careened in opposite directions, knocked clear off their feet.

'Jack' landed on his back with a thud (a powerful word). His laugh was both harsh and pleasantly surprised. "Theeeeeeeeere it is!"

Lilith approached with fire in her palms. Caution could not explain the tiny hairs pricking her neck. A kind of static electricity lingered in the atmosphere. "What was that?" she questioned, lips thin. Fiona was at her back about five feet away, leery about both parties.

One shining yellow orb narrowed. " _Spoiiiiiilers_ ," he teased.

Rhys remained on the ground, rubbing his torso with a pained hiss. It felt like a burn, but there was no redness or charred flesh. "What the ow?" He was aware of Sasha's close presence and pushed onto his legs, limping in her direction.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm not built for this sort of thing," he groaned in response. If the monocyte breeder sealed the wound in his leg, his recent endeavor definitely ripped it open again. Hot liquid leaked down his calf. "Let's never do that again."

Green eyes settled onto Vaughn. Sasha was forming worry lines on her forehead. The bandit king was growing paler by the second, his breathing slowing. "He's getting worse. We need to ... " She stared past the line of Legionnaires to the caravan. If only they could relay out of here. Rhys bitterly followed her gaze.

"Yeah, how?"

The answer came in the form of a .50 caliber bullet.

* * *

On June 28, 1914, on a street corner in Sarajevo, Gavrilo Princip fired the bullet that killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand and started World War I.

Robert Joseph MacCready was no Gavril and maybe his bullet wouldn't trigger global conflict, but it certainly disrupted the scene into the chaos they needed to take the field.

With the wind blowing to his desire and the hill that became his perchpoint providing a favorable view, his mark wasn't off. A Prime Veteran of the Legion went down, crimson splashing from a fresh brain vent. More bullets raged onto the battlefield as the crew made their way into the main arena. Danse in power armor led the charge, firing Righteous Authority's bright red lasers. Nick toted his pistols, slipping in and out of cover behind unsuspecting Legionnaires and using their bodies as shields. Strong made a show of ripping the mounted minigun from its vertibird. He slung it ahead of him like a heavy ram, booming a harrowing laugh as the barrel turned red with rapid rotations.

Caesar Lanius' arm dropped and then the Legion was no longer holding back. Hellfire erupted from every angle.

Preston held a red pistol to the sky and fired. The hovering flare could be seen for miles aroujnd. Did he really think there were any stray Minutemen out there, willing to come to their aid? Maybe ... They'd surprised MacCready before with their willingness to risk life and limb.

Codsworth wasn't made for fighting. He hung back a ways near a dual-flintlock-wielding Hancock: brazen as ever, thrusting himself in like a thunderclap that could not be avoided. The Ghoul walked as he shot, lips tight and face contorted into an expression of controlled fury.

A transluscent, watery apparition appeared to MacCready's left and vanished into the clamor of Legion. With it came the felling of soldiers through the slashing of some blade against their throats. It weaved in and out, unseen, unheard. Cloak and dagger Deacon, no doubt, with a Stealth Boy at his beck and call. Piper kept to the sidelines, taking pot shots where they counted.

MacCready could see Rhys and Sasha duck out of the bulletstorm and creep their way towards the caravan, somehow negotiating Vaughn's limp body in the mix. Cait was mousing through the ranks, slamming the enemy with a Power Fist or a headbutt or a kick to the legs - anything that worked at the given moment. She worked towards the Pandorans with Curie in tow and made short work of the Legion soldiers blocking them from Sanctuary Hills' entrance. MacCready lended his aid but putting a hole in the last man standing.

"C'mon!" Cait hollered, grabbing Sasha by the shoulder and practically dragging her to the caravan. Their eyes and mouths reflected shock and fear, neither having met Cait _or_ Curie before. Readily accepting help of any shape and size, the pair and their unconscious friend didn't/couldn't argue as they approached the vehicle. Opening the door freed Dogmeat. The hound plunged past them with teeth bared and fur raised. The German Shepherd was stubborn, just like his owner. Despite the frantic calling of his name, Dogmeat squirmed into the beehive and was gone.

The screaming of a mini-nuke made its appearance, got louder and louder. Cait shoved Sasha and Rhys back and dove after them. Curie needed only to hunker down where she was, not being close enough to sustain damage. A blast of heat and light later and there was nothing left of the vehicle but tattered steel and a tire.

Even from here, MacCready could hear Sasha's string of colorful curses.

MacCready picked out the Legionnaire with the Fat Man and took him down. It wasn't long before another scrabbled for the powerful weapon. He was lost to the monumental ocean of swaying bodies. "Damn ... "

_"Monsieur Danse, ve vill retreat to ze Red Rocket to treat ze injured!"_

_"Affirmative. Stay safe, we'll be with you shortly."_

He watched through the scope as four pairs of feet scampered across the bridge. A few Legionnaires broke rank to pursue them. Cait would make quick work of them.

MacCready moved the crosshairs throughout the combat-riddled arena of concrete and grass. There was Danse, locking into a heated battle with Caesar Lanius. Strong was wrestling with five soldiers. Where was Fiona?

He found her pinned against a pile of shrapnel with six Legion soldiers - two Prime Veterans, three Recruits, and one Vexillarius - surrounding her. She had nowhere to take cover and the pea-shooter was clearly out of ammunition. MacCready unloaded his magazine into three of them and slid down the hill to her aid.

* * *

Lilith saw Rhys retreat. She fired at his feet. 'Jack' was in front of her again, however, absorbing the bullet into his shaded red flesh of mottled shadow. The Siren screamed bloody frustration, pouncing at him with her free fist held back.

Knuckles connected with Vessel skin. 'Jack' did not draw back, but Lilith's hand lit up from the searing burn left behind by the brief contact. His body was hotter than her flames. How was that possible, and why didn't he dodge? He only laughed at her dismay as she withdrew, shaking her stinging hand with a hiss.

" _Bastard_! Why are you protecting him?" she seethed, fingering the corrosive-style pistol again.

He simply cocked his head to the side, eyes slit and maw stretched with wretched amusement. "Reaaaaaaaasons," he thrummed.

Overstretched limbs unfurled in her direction. 'Jack' advanced, tongue lolling and hips swaying with no apprehension cast to the utter destruction being cast about him. Lilith stared down the sights at her old enemy.

"How did you become a Siren?"

"Ghhhhhhood you're so _stupid_ ," chortled the beastly apparition. 'Jack' stopped short. His legs suddenly wouldn't move him in the direction he wanted to go and his knees struck dirt. "Nnnnot me. Not _herrr_ either. Man, that little bambino's got some spunk in 'im. Even you baaaby Sirens don't go down without a fighhht."

Lilith hesitated. Her eyes settled on the pulsating stomach. " _Her_?"

A wracking cough erupted from his chest, shook his whole body. 'Jack' keeled over, one arm wrapped about his abdomen to cater some internal agony that simply would not go away, the other embedding itself in the soil. For a brief moment his voice became _not his_ anymore. It was feminine. It was weak. It was whimpering. And it wheezed as blood streamed from the luminescent maw to soak the arid earth.

Then it became Jack again. He gulped lunguls of air between maniacal giggles. "Loooooks like you've _finalllyyy_ reached your limiiittt, huh, kitten?" he crooned in an undertone to himself. An attempt to stand only ended in failure. Yellow balls of light stared back at the Firehawk. "Sssso? C'mon, you _chicken shit bandiiiit_ , what the hell are youuuuu waiting for?!"

Lilith stared, confusion gripping. "I - what?"

"Ssss'what ya've wanted to do, riiight? What ya did once alreaaaady. _Kill me_."

"Except I wouldn't be killing you, would I?"

"Whasswrong, cupcake? Got a problem killing pregnant women?" Something dangerous tinged his voice now. The grin devolved into a frown. "You didn't have a problem back _then_." Lilith sneered. Jack mirrored the expression back to her. "Ssssso you have two optionnss. Get riiid of her - she'll be a problem for the boooooooth of us. Orrr, you can turn her loose and watch the world dieeee. What will you choose?"

* * *

Rhys wiped a stressed tear from his cheek, inadvertantly streaking Vaughn's blood across his face. "Is he - is he gonna be okay?"

They were at the Red Rocket. Several Legionnaires had tailed them, but Cait wheeled upon them and was going in full force. For a woman who relied heavily on fisticuffs, she had no problem dispatching multiple men armed with fully loaded guns ... though he had to wonder why she never bothered drawing the sword from the scabbard belted to her side.

Once beyond the junk fence, Curie ushered them to an outside workbench and had Sasha place Vaughn's listless, nearly lifeless husk onto it. Nimble fingers went to work assessing the situation, brushing dirt away from the wound and feeling for a pulse. Rhys leaned numbly against the metal workspace. The pain in his leg was dissipating again, but the ache in his chest wouldn't leave him alone. Sasha had a hand on his back. It did little to ebb the inner turmoil, but he was happy for her being there nonetheless.

"'Ee az lost a lot of blood," Curie answered. She turned to Sasha. " _Madame_ , vould 'ou retrieve a bottle of purified vater from eenside, _s'il vous plaît_?"

The Pandoran gave Rhys' shoulder a light squeeze. "Sure." She vanished into the decrepit sanctuary for scavengers and returned momentarily with the required ingredient.

" _Merci_." Curie rinsed the exposed flesh. Vaughn in his unconsciousness winced and groaned.

"So he'll - he'll - "

"Give me a moment, _monsieur."_

Rhys had to do several double takes when Curie removed the tips of two fingers. There were needles underneath. She jammed them both in the pliable, pale flesh just below Vaughn's slash injury and the echumation of pressurized air reached his ears.

"What are ... ?"

"Med-X for pain, Super Stimpack to stimulate 'ealing." She broke the needle tips off and tossed them aside. Two more sprung up in their place, but she capped them with the faux fingers. Next she rolled up her left sleeve and very definitely pulled a square of flesh from her arm. Hidden beneath was a compartment with several threading needles and string. "Next I vill stitch ze vound. Eef 'ou are queasy, I vould suggest 'ou look away."

"How ... ?"

"How are you doing that?" Sasha finished for him.

Rhys swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah. _That_."

"I am a Synth, _mes amis_."

"You ... a Synth?"

" _Oui_." The needle pierced raw tissue. Rhys had to turn his head, Sasha did not. "Forgive me, _monsieur_ , but are 'ou not vone as vell?"

He touched the space around his cybernetic eye. Without the ECHOnet connection, Rhys nearly forgot it was synthetic. "I - n-no, it's just a prosthesis."

"Oh! Zat is unfortunate, 'ow did 'ou lose your original?"

Rhys dodged the question. "For a Synth, you're ... really human."

"Isn't Danse one, too?" Sasha piqued, eyes slowly widening. "Crap, I totally forgot. Neither of you look anything like Nick."

" _Monsieur_ Valentine vas our predecessor. An earlier model. Most recent Synths are uncannily similar to humans vith funcitoning respiratory, digestive, and circulatory systems." No wonder the Synth program was such a huge bone to be picked upon by the Brotherhood of Steel and shut down once they'd taken a foothold within the Institute. Even by his standards, Rhys found it to be unnatural and more than a little creepy. "Modifications vere made to Codsworth and myself before Synth manufacturing came to a halt. Ve are more proficient in ze medical field zan combat."

She moved faster than they gave her credit for, moving between muscular, subcutaneous, dermal and epidermal layers of flesh with the tenacity of a surgeon on steroids. Curie asked for a knife and Sasha plucked Kroger's blade from Vaugh's belt. Once complete, the Synth injected one final thing into the unconscious male - this time seeking the brachial artery of his arm's bend. Unlike before, she did not remove her finger. It remained partially embedded in Vaughn's flesh.

"What are you giving him now?" Sasha queried.

"Sterile saline to replace ze blood 'ee 'az lost."

"'Ey, mates!" Cait's head poked through the fence's entrance. Blood decorated her cheeks, marking a sharp contrast with brilliant green irisis. Her forearms were completely covered in viscera. She gestured to the in a 'come hither' sort of manner. "Ya should come see this - some really weird shite is going on."

* * *

Lilith lowered her weapon.

'Jack' glowered, head dipping down. "I'm disappointed in you."

"You're as manipulative as you are intelligent. Once upon a time I would have listened to your every word," she growled. "You don't think I know what your end game is? I'm not as foolish as I used to be."

The arm he'd embedded in the ground was suddenly soaked with white light. It followed through. Lilith prepared for the attack.

"Are you sssuuure," his voice made the Siren's blood run cold, "you aren't still the foool, _bandit bitch_?"

An explosion of rock erupted from the ground behind her. She spun two seconds too late. A tendril of darkness explored the air, whipped wildly as a vine seeking sunlight. It caught her in its rambunctious thrash, snaking around her every curve, crushing tight her diaphragm, cracking ribs, fully encapsulating her into a coccoon of slippery black matter. She howled, conjuring flames from her body in a last ditch effort to burn the thing to ash but the heat was rended from her skin and smoldered fruitlessly into the sky.

"Lilith!" She may have fired on Rhys earlier, threatened him with death, but Lilith was still a Vault Hunter and they were supposed to stick together until the highest bidder came calling. Fiona took several shots at the husk, each richocheting off to strike somewhere else. She ran towards her. MacCready wrenched her away.

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicked, and punched.

"Wait!" he hollered back, taking each blow unflinchingly.

A figure appeared as if from thin air - tall, thickly built, definitely masculine. Cloaked in dark-colored clothes lined with fur, his face hidden from side by a well-placed cowl, the mysterious being stood alongside the writhing mass.

And as the coccoon closed around Lilith's face, she was able to look at Fiona one last time and gasp the words, "Don't - believe - _him_ \- ," before it, too, was overcome by shadows.

The coccoon snapped off the main tendril, which melted like ice on the ground. Touching his gloved fingers to the hardening shell, the man raised a finger to his covered lips, whispered something under his breath ... and vanished along with Lilith.

Fiona screamed. She tore free from MacCready and aimed at the monster. " **Where did you take her**?!"

Rather than answer, his face flashed white and he roared. The ripping wind echumed from his widened maw was strong enough to knock both MacCready and Fiona back a good twenty feet. They landed in a tangled heap just beyond the splintered remains of the massive tree, Golly.

Then he reeled backwards onto his haunches, giggled to himself, and scornfully added, "Ya aaalllways gotta do everything yourself, Jackie boy." Lemon-yellow sockets closed. A content smirk split the lower half of the Vessel's complexion. "Ssssory, kitten. I had a _blast_ inside ya - too bad it wasn't any other way, ha! But tiiiiime for you to go."

As it had when the Vessel was 'punished', pale blue lightning spiderwebbed across its skin. Fierce bolts of electricity jabbed at blood vessels, synapses in the brain fired in response to pain, blood pooled from the corners of its mouth. The beast bent forwards, wrapping both arms around its abdomen.

And a woman's scream pierced the darkened, smoke-filled atmosphere from the mouth formerly manipulated by Handsome Jack.

* * *

_"Mama - "_

Outright agony stretched to every fiber of her being. Nora could not hold it in. Could not contain it. Could not will it away. Claws thrashed, teeth gnashed. The quavering, rising shriek jutting through tired vocal ords was strained and tired like the rest of her: feeble; unwilling to carry on fighting.

She collapsed, face-first, in the dirt. A tremendous weight held down her torso. Heart wavered, throbbed, pumped and shook, pumped and shook ... It was becoming so hard to breathe. Her chest was going to explode - burning from the inside ... a fireball growing beyond the limits of its prison.

Any moment now, vision would go dark.

Any second now, lungs would cease to fill.

Any time ...

Something cold and wet touched her cheek.

It drew back with a yelp, startling Nora into peering up through blurred suffering. Gasping growls subsided into soft squeaks. The dog that bumped its snout against her rubbed a paw against its muzzle. But it came back, leaned in ... and licked her face. Another yelp. Another step back. And like a moth to a flame ...

After the fourth try it finally sat on its hindquarters, twisted its skull on an incline with one ear up and the other bent back, and barked. That furred tail was wagging, eyes alight like it had found a friend it'd been missing for a long time.

 _"Stupid mutt. Get outta here!"_ Jack retained control of an arm. Nora swung outwards involuntarily. The pooch took the hit and returned with a limp. It sat right down in the exact same spot.

_Dog ..._

_"I SAID GET!"_

_Dog ... meat ..._

Glowing markings shot up the arm. She attacked again ... or tried to. The pain was getting more and more intense. Tribal markings flickered weakly out of sight, the gentle pulsating on her abdominal cavity slowing. Screeching turned into a lowered creel. So why did she still hear screaming?

It was manly, this time. Not her's. Not ...

Jack allowed Nora to turn her head and look. Through the darkening haze she could see a man in metallic armor, silver in coloration, fighting the one clad in gold with the mask of Mars. The one she wanted dead. They were locked in combat and silver armor was struck hard across the head. His helmet was cast aside visciously, exposing dark hair and a familiar scarred face that made Nora squint in attempted recognition.

Mars took advantage of the cranial blow. It took away some of Silver Armor's senses. Mars drew back his sword arm and thrust it through his opponent's abdomen. The blade sliced through metal like butter - cut into one side and out the other. Silver Armor screamed, Mars taking special dedication to twist the thick weapon in his gut.

The dog whined.

_I know that man._

_"You do. And he's getting exactly what he deserves. Isn't he one of the very reasons you turned your back on all the things you were taught in the Brotherhood, kitten? If you'd only gone and done what you were ordered, maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they did. Yeah, this is your fault. Waaaaaaaah waaaaaaaaaah waaaaaaaaah."_

_Brotherhood?_

Her fingers twitched. She couldn't make out everything that was being told to her. The names and places didn't quite fit. But voices. From before. Voices.

_Maxson's face, contorted and scarlet as they stood outside the bunker in the bitter chill of approaching winter._

_"How dare you betray the Brotherhood?!" he snarled._

_"It's not her fault," Danse interrupted firmly. Nora 'took point' and the Paladin stood behind her. For once, just once, fear consorted with expressed confidence. She had never seen him like that. "It's mine."_

_"I'll deal with you in a moment._ _**Knight** _ _! Why has this ... thing not been destroyed?"_

_"He's still alive ... because you're wrong about him."_

_"_ _**Him** _ _?! Danse isn't a man. It's a machine! An automoton created by the Institute! It wasn't born from the womb of a loving mother, it was grown within the cold confines of a laboratory._ _**Flesh** _ _is_ _**flesh** _ _._ _**Machine** _ _is_ _**machine** _ _. The two were never meant to intertwine! By attempting to play God, the Institute has taken the sanctity of human life and corrupted it beyond measure!"_

_"After all I've done for the Brotherhood - all the blood I've spilled in our name - how can you say that about me?"_

_"You're the physical embodiment of what we hate most. Technology that's gone too far! Look around you, Danse! Look around at the scorched earth and the bones that litter the Wasteland. Millions, perhaps_ _**billions** _ _died because_ _**science** _ _outpaced man's restraint! They called it a 'new frontier' and 'pushing the envelope', completely disregarding the repercussions!_ _**Can't you see the same thing is happening again?!** _ _You're a single bomb in an arsenal of thousands preparing to lay waste to what's left of mankind."_

_"Danse wants to save mankind, not destroy it."_

_"You're as delusional as you are insubordinate! How can you trust the word of a machine that thinks its alive?!"_

Nora removed her arms from her stinging abdomen. They pressed against the ground. She could taste blood.

_"A machine that's had its mind erased, its thoughts programmed, its very_ _**soul** _ _manufactured. Those_ _**ethics** _ _that its triving to champion aren't even its own. They were artificially inserted in an attempt to have it blend in to society."_

_"It's true. I was built within the confines of a laboratory. And some of my memories aren't my own. But when I saw my brothers dying at my feet, I felt sorrow. When I defeated an enemy of the Brotherhood, I felt pride. And when I heard your speech about saving the Commonwealth, I felt hope. Don't you understand? I thought I was_ _**human** _ _, Arthur. From the moment I was taken into the Brotherhood, I've done absolutely nothing to betray your trust, and I never will."_

_"It's too late for that now. The Institute has foolishly chosen to grant you life. You simply should not exist. I don't intend to debate this any longer. My orders stand."_

_"It's all right. We did our best. You convinced me that I was wrong to be ashamed of my true identity and I thank you for it. Whatever you decide, know that I a going to my grave with no anger and no regrets."_

_"_ _**Touching** _ _. Either you execute Danse, or I will, Knight. The choice is yours."_

_Nora inhaled slowly. Chances were high nothing good was going to come from this confrontation, but she had to try. "After all the sacrifices I've made and all the battles I have fought for the Brotherhood, you need to listen to me. You owe me that much."_

_"Very well. I'm listening."_

_"Whether he's human or not, Danse saved the loves of countless Brotherhood soldiers. Now it's time you saved his."_

She pressed against the ground, arching her spine backwards until her stomach stretched. Jack screeched something about laying down to die. Amperage was yanked upwards. Nora cringed at first, almost instantaneously doubling down to her former position. Instead she held her ground through clenched teeth, one hand tracing along her opposing shoulder to her back.

"Dannnssee."

Jack siezed control of her arm. The open palm slid towards her right eye. Claws found grooves around the ocular, sipped between bone and eyeball and _dug_. Nora lashed backwards in a hideous, bloodcurdling scream. Talons crushed down the fragile body part. It popped, oozed, sizzled under the heat.

_Danse standing in the doorway. One of the rare times she saw him without his power armor, without his 'safety net'. He didn't lean against the frame or cross his arms - they hung limp at his sides. Tired eyes were chased by inner demons: world-weariness; fatigue ... and a tinge of something new, something growing, something ..._ _**affectionate** _ _._

_"My life's starting over. And I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained. Which includes something important you've made me realize. I don't know if it's friendship or ... an anomaly in my programming ... After all, I'm not really human. But whatever it is, I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met."_

Claws continued through and through. Any further and they would break through the occipital, pierce the brain. Nora screeched. She yanked free her left arm. Fighting for her eye was pointless. But that thing sticking into her back -

"Get ... _out_ ... "

Snarling, she slid one limb up. Claws clasped the metallic device. It was such an awkward angle but all she had to do was pull. Blue bolts of lightning turned white with increased temperatures. The spear wedged between her ribs began to shift.

Jack was shouting again. _"You stubborn witch! You're not supposed to - "_

"Out of my head." The voltage was unbearable. Any more and she would lose motor control. Nora stopped trying to pull and began to squeeze until she heard metal chips pop and squeal under her grasp. "OUT OF MY MIND!"

It was as though somebody clicked off a television blurting static and high whistles. Utter, terrible, _fantastic_ silence filled her brain. Nora remained that way with her back twisted and mouth open, stunned at the feel of _release_. Nothing could compare to that freedom, that stillness. Her body still ached, was still hurting and pained and she was still swishing blood in her mouth. But the electricity was gone. She flexed her claws. That tangible sensation of being in control again was -

Caesar Lanius plunged his blade deeper. Danse yowled, grabbing it on either side in a failed attempt to keep it penetrating further.

The clock was ticking.

Nora ripped the spear from her body, heated vapor _hiss_ ing from the gaping pit left behind. Harrowed muscles sprung into action once more but this time it was fuelled by desires that belonged to her and nobody else. She didn't remember the length of the run. She didn't remember rearing back an arm, roaring something uninteligible. Nora _did_ remember the satisfying _crunch_ of golden-plated armor cracking beneath her knuckles, the Caesar going airborn into the dying woods ...

Danse pulled the sword from his body. She reached out to him but he recoiled, a look of confusion and fear passing sharply over his eyes. From the corner of her own vision, Nora could finally see the swirling darkness of her hide - the way spots of red weaved in like mixed paint. A stench of burned blood crept into her nostrils, accompanied with the strongest desire to vomit.

She watched her hands, not sure how to feel about the situation. And as she loomed, the darkness receded from her right hand, from her right foot, gradually began tapering from the rest of her ... Vision was absolved from her right orbital, a chasm replacing what had once been an eye. Danse's eyelids pulled back, mouth moving slowly, whispering, "Nora?"

Hearing her own name startled her. She looked up -

\- just in time to see Caesar Lanius rolling towards her, full-throttle, in the same posturshe'd attacked him with. _A little punch_ , she thought wryly, _from a guy with big metal gloves. This might hurt a little._

She didn't expect the force to be unmeasurable enough to knock her clear of Sanctuary Hills and send her crashing through Red Rocket's fence.

With the crashing wave of darkness overpowering her, she at least didn't have to feel the impact.

* * *

"BOSS!"

MacCready skid through the unrelenting gaggle of gunfire of blood. His eyes were wide, his fce pale. Running around that way with his jacket missing, it was a look that didn't suit him. Fiona was at his heels. She'd switched from Roshambo to the laser pistol because the reload time was so damn troublesome. Trying to shove a bullet into the chamber, one at a time, in the middle of a firefight was highly inconvenient. She would have to look into modifying a clip for it.

"BOSS!" MacCready shouted again. His voice drowned easily in the battle cries on all sides. "BOSS!"

"Mac, wait up!" Fiona yelled. The former Gunner did so with no warning whatsoever. She almost slammed into his back. "H-hey!"

Nick was ahead of them, his old duster's tattered edged flapping and revolver crackling hard and heavy. The Synth detective turned when he noticed MacCready. "Mac?"

"Nick! Did you see the boss?!" A Legion soldier strayed too close. Fiona took him down with a clear-cut, point-blank laser to the skull.

Valentine's attention was split between handling enemies and holding a conversation. "If by boss - " _BAM!_ " - you mean Nora - " _BANG!_ " - I did." A metallic digit pointed southward. MacCready would have thought him to be more enthusiastic. Unease vanished when he saw the corner of the wrinkled detective's mouth curl upwards. "Today was productive after all. Go get her, huh?" _BAM BAM!_ "And make sure she's okay. I'll lecture her later about not filing for vacation time."

He chuckled. MacCready stifled a laugh, spun, and ran.

The Gunner and his 'girlfriend' didn't get far before a Centurion weaved his way into view. Hefted about in his arms was the same Fat Man used earlier. The mini-nuke projectile was levelled towards MacCready. " **AWE, TRUE TO -** "

Nick appeared from the mass. For a body made entirely of steel, he moved much quicker than MacCready would have expected. The Synth threw all of his weight into the Centurion's chest. The Legionnaire fell backwards, aim going sky-high and the lethal bomb whistling beyond the smoke: impossible to be seen. Whenever it came down, _wherever_ it landed, it was going to become a very bad day.

Luckily, Strong's minigun didn't require accuracy. The Super Mutant stepped into view - how they didn't see him beforehand was anybody's guess - and dipped the weapon's back down so that the red-hot barrel was skyward. That solid, steady stream of bullets was loud enough to make anybody go deaf.

One of the hundreds hit its mark. Light cracked into view amid the lightning. A temporary burst of heated air pushed smoke aside.

Maybe it was just a coincicdence. Maybe it was science - the force of the blast plus ionized radiation playing a role in the mechanics of thunderclouds. Either way, a terrifying thunderclap rang true, then another. Then there was rain, and with the sudden sharp increase of humidity, smoke was pushed low to the ground. MacCready couldn't see a foot in front of his face.

"Fi?" he screamed, reaching around with his free hand. "FIONA?!"

A warm hand touched his back. "I'm here! I can't see a damned thing!"

"Yeah. Look, hold tight and - "

 _"Hey guys?"_ Deacon's somewhat amused vocals pierced through the comm still placed in MacCready's ear. _"Who turned out the lights?"_

"I blame Strong," MacCready responded. He heard the Super Mutant grunt in response.

 _"Head to the vertibirds,"_ Danse commanded. _"We need to evacuate."_ But the Gunner could see the sheen of metal armor through the smoke, gleaming in the fiery blasts of gunfire, could hear the plodding of heavy boots. He was moving south - towards Nora and away from the choppers.

"I need to get Sasha!" Fiona snapped. She tugged MacCready's arm. "Let's go!"

 _"So ... "_ It was Deacon again. He sounded sheepishly insane. _"About the vertibirds ... "_

One explosion rocked the ground. Two. **Three**. Gloved fingers rubbed the scruff along his chin. Hancock bleated into transmission, _"Oh for_ _ **fuck's sake**_ _\- "_

_"Well ... Walking's healthier for you anyway."_

_"Elder Danse!"_ Ever-official Preston Garvey broke through. _"Get everybody to the perimeter. We've got backup?"_

_"Holy crap, the Minutemen actually came?"_

_"Did you ever doubt us?"_

_"Let's not answer that right now."_

MacCready pulled Fiona along. He was running - nay, _stumbling_ \- over bodies. Stalling his pace to a brisk walk once he remembered the creek that ran on Sanctuary's edge, his hand found Fiona's. She was shouting, " _SASHA_!" through the dank smog - an action he highly advised against, but there wasn't going to be any stopping her.

He thought he heard snarling and froze. Fiona kept wanting to move. He gave her limb a sharp yank that forced her to remain still. "Shhhhhh," he hissed when she tried to argue. MacCready couldn't see the impromptu Vault Hunter's face but it was safe to assume it screwed into something grudgingly obliging.

Ears became sonars. MacCready honed into the noise. Snarls, growls, feral hisses ... then screams ... He bit his lip. Those things had been so much further back than the army of Super Mutants, but he'd forgotten to take into account how much they loved to _run_. Had they cleared all that distance already? Because there was no mistaking those beastly yowls.

 _"FERALS!"_ Deacon shouted. There was gunfire on his end. _"Hey - hey - we really need to get rollin - hngghh!"_ A sound like teeth ripping into skin and sinew. A gurgling cry. Sporadic gunfire that faltered. The communication transmission fizzled out of life and a dark, cold hand reached around MacCready's heart.

"Deacon?"

Nothing.

 _"Hey Deacs, come in, man. Where you at?"_ That was Hancock. _"Deaaaaaaacooon?"_

 _"Son of a bitch ... ,"_ Preston's groan was heavy. _"Is he ... ?"_

The radio silence was unwelcome.

_"Somebody, find Deacon!"_

_"We can't see a fucking thing in this smoke, Piper."_

MacCready's fingers wrapped firmly around Fiona's. "We need to get out of here," he whisper-yelled. Rather than following Danse's harsh footfalls, he pulled the last remaining Vault Hunter to the side. Eastbound.

As expected, Fiona resisted. "No - NO! I'm not leaving without my sister! SASH! **SASHA**!"

"We don't have a choice!" he growled. "And keep your voice down! Do you wanna attract every feral - "

Oh universe, how impeccable your timing was!

Three of them lurched through the black fog. Skeletal fingers reached for their flesh, fearsome jaws parting in harrowing screams. Fiona yanked away from one snatching at her hair with a yelp. MacCready plunged a dagger into its skull before it could get close to her throat. The other two loomed close, but in the darkness it was hard to get a good shot. Instead he tugged Fiona forcefuly.

"COME ON!"

" **SASHA**!"

" **Fi, we need to go**!" When another feral ghoul latched onto her ankle, Fiona delivered a sharp kick. She wasn't complaining after that. He tapped into the comm, speaking between breaths while running, _"Curie, Cait, do you copy?"_

* * *

" ... did she manage to get out of it without the seal? Maya said it had to be sealed."

"Maybe she fought through it?"

"Through a Siren _and_ Jack?"

Voices broke through the white noise: one man, one woman. She recognized neither of them.

"Well, you beat Jack once, right? It's not impossible."

"Yeah, but ... I mean, this is a whole different level of ... ah ... "

"Fucked up?"

"Yeah. That."

" _Monsieur_ , please look at vat 'ou are doing."

 _That_ was an accent she remembered. Nora felt her consciousness flood back into her body. Feeling restored to places they'd been absent.

"Ri-right." It sounded like the man swallowed a bird. His throat croaked. She wondered if he as going to puke. Gentle fingers pressed against her forehead, wrapped something semi-tight about her skull. They passed over her right eye with a sparking of white-hot pain along every nerve and a long, high hissing sound that Nora realized was her own breath slithering through clenched teeth. Instinctually, she slapped away the rude digits. "Ow - sorry, sorry!"

"Sweet banana split," Nora whispered. She rolled her head to the side and groaned. "That hurt, you dick."

"Banana ... split?" Rather than sound mildly offended by the name-calling, the male struck a humored tone. Movement paused for only a second. Then he was unrolling gauze again, hands touching softer where they'd put too much pressure before. "I could really use some ice cream now."

The woman from before was chuckling. "Rhys ... If it isn't tech, it's sweets."

Grumbling, the Minutemen general lolled her head back again. "Mhmm. Vanilla."

"Chocolate." Rhys happily changed the subject from wound-bandaging to frozen treats.

"Chocolate chip ... cookie dough."

"Cookies and cream."

"Neopolitan."

"Mint chocolate chip."

"Peanut butter swirl."

"Butter pecan."

"Will you stop?" A feminine laugh. "You're _both_ drooling. Shit, you're making me hungry."

She was vaguely aware of the wet stream jettisoning from her mouth. Nora wiped it away. "Hungry," she told them simply. Imagining a blistering light awaiting her, the woman slowly opened her eyes - _eye_ \- and was greeted with a fuzzy outline of a man leaning over her. Brown oculars ... soot smeared across his cheeks ... a fire brigade hat topping his messy, slightly matted brown hair. Nora's heart leaped into her chest. " ... Dad?"

"Who?" A quizzical frown. The voice even sounded similar, but ...

"Huh?"

"What?"

 _Get real, Nora. Dad died before the war._ Rapidly blinking away the haze, the image before her changed. No longer was the man marred with time-enhanced wrinkles and crow's feet. The hat was gone but the soot remained, and both eyes were definitely not brown - one was the yellow and black of a Synth. This guy was easily several decades younger than her father would have been.

"Yeah ... nope, sorry. Hell if that's not an uncanny resemblance though," she found herself murmuring, tracing a finger along her bandaged face. Gradually she felt towards her stomach. Her shirt was partially lifted, exposing her abdomen. It was somewhat rigid and hot to the touch. The dressing over the probing hole was dry. She was certain it was soaking earlier ...

Curie had to be the one speaking now ... that same French twang ... She was just out of Nora's vision to her right. "I redid 'our stitches, _madame_. Zey 'ad popped. Super Stimpacked 'ou due to internal bleeding and fed 'ou saline to replace blood. 'Ou have not lost much, zankfully, and as far as I can tell, 'ze subdermal hemorrhage 'as been stopped. Ze eye, I am afraid, eez gone. I vould like to ask about zat hole, zough. Vat happened to 'ou, _mon ami_?"

"I ... ," she began. A fuzzy confusion took hold of her incoherent brain. The lonely teal iris narrowed in deep afterthought.

Really, what _did_ happen? Nora was at the Boston Airport, scavenging for supplies to bring back. She was armed with a full duffel bag of pre-war tech by the time she'd turned to head home to Sanctuary Hills. Then there were people in rags streaming in at her from all sides - appearing from under rubble, between trash heaps, surrounding her, _attacking_ her.

Darkness and water. Tubes and faces. Escape. Sanctuary Hills exploding. Claws and teeth ... seething hatred ... blood spilled by her own hands ... Danse screaming -

Nora sat bolt upright and instantly regretted it. Rhys - at least she assumed that was his name - yelped, scuttling backwards like he'd realized the snake he was poking was actually alive and armed with poisonous fangs. She had never seen somebody become so afraid so quickly.

 _That's not true,_ she thought bitterly. _The Captures were like that ... just before you got ahold of them ..._ Had she not turned the battlefield into a slaughterhouse? Grim guilt gripped her throat, but it was nothing like the searing agony wrenching her head, her gut. Unleashing a shaking groan, Nora's arm bent about her waist to guard the swollen flesh. The eye slammed shut to block out sudden throbbing. A wave of nausea claimed her senses and if she'd had anything in her stomach she surely would have puked.

"Let me give 'ou some Med-X for ze pain, Nora," Curie was saying. The Synth was leaning over another male - this one unconscious - with her finger burrowed into his arm.

The word _alone_ made Nora's skin crawl. Chin swaying, she popped open her sight to see the French Synth extending a hand her way. Deep hunger, a longing for bliss ... The Minutemen general reached for her with twitching hands, found her wrist, and held it in place. "Curie, _no_ Med-X, _please_ ," she told her with strain in her voice. Looking at that needle was making her sweat.

" _Madame_ , 'ou are hurting!"

"They pumped me full of analgesics, Curie. For _two years_. I can take the pain, just please, no more Med-X." Her own pleading tone made her wince. Nora knew the effects of addiction. So did the Synthetic medic. Curie withdrew the needle into her finger and opened another from her pinky.

"I vill give 'ou Addictol, zen," she told her in that luscious French accent and leaned forward. Nora tilted her head on an angle and bit down as a needle slipped into her neck. A tsunami of relief washed over her.

"What are you giving her?" a stranger asked. It was the woman's voice from earlier. Nora looked in the general direction to get a feel for who was there with them. Her complexion was like cofee with light cream. Dark dredlocks swooped backwards over her cranium, her hooded outfit a combination of colors - mostly red - bands and wraps. She stood guard at a hole in a junk fence at ... at ...

Further inspection revealed their location. She knew this garage all too well - had spent several sleepless nights there tending to her power armor alongside Sturges and, occasionally, Danse. A mechanic's perfume teased flaring nostrils: a combination of motor oil, grease, hot metal and sweat. Shelves were still lined with key ingredients, but her shark armor was not where it should be. Above them would be the blaring Red Rocket sign and furhter along the roof would be a rocket replica.

Curie explained some things to Dredlockes. "Addictol. Ven one 'as administered zemselves too much medication, zey sometimes become addicted. Addictol vill remove ze effects for a painless re'abilitation."

Nora threw the stranger a partially enthusiastic little wave. She was amused when the gesture was returned with a cynically raised brow. "Nora," she introduced herself.

"Sasha. Is this a normal day for you?"

"Just about, yeah."

Curie removed the needle, popped the top, and drew back her hand. It raced down Nora's arm until delicate fingers wrapped around her own gloved ones. "It eez good to see 'ou again, Nora. Codsworth vill be overjoyed."

Nora beamed weakly. "I missed you too, Curie."

A series of titular explosions muffled their conversation. Accompanying the cataclysm was a fettering of rain drops falling outside the fence-line. Red Rocket was just inside the whisping, feathery pale gray clouds edging the dark black cauldron over Sanctuary Hills. It left them in an eerie fog scented with burning wood and nipping with acidic teeth.

Feedback sizzled from Curie's ear and the Synth's expression darkened. "Ah ... " Muffled words escaped her communication device. Nora couldn't make out what was said.

Movement at the fence. Another woman jumped through the hole. Sasha raised her gun momentarily before realizing who it was and settling back into a guard position. Nora didn't need to question the newcomer's identity. Once their eyes locked, the red-haired woman practically flew at her. "I _told_ ya not ta party hard without me, lass!"

Nora held out an arm. "Not my fault you're too wrapped up in Hancock's bedsheets."

Cait grabbed her by the forearm and yanked her to her feet so quickly that Nora almost didn't feel the discomfort in her abdominal muscles. Almost. Luckily, the Irish woman's fierce hug beat it out of her. "Feck you, ya stubborn arse."

"Ditto, you ornery bitch."

"Where the _bleedin' hell_ 'ave ya been?" Cait released her, holding her out by her shoulders at arm's length. "Feckin' _two years_. Ya could've sent a message or somethin'."

"I'll remember to blow bubbles your way the next time I'm in a test tube," Nora quipped sarcastically.

"Test tube?"

"Courtesy of the Children of Atom. Or, well, _shit_ ... I guess they're Caesar's Legion now." The details were too much for her to process. Rubbing her temple to clear her thoughts, Nora was temporarily lost in thought when Cait slid something smooth and metallic into her free hand. Her only functioning eye took note of the object. It was unmistakeable.

"Well, tell us later, will ya? Whole lotta shite goin' down righ' now. I found sumthin' of yer's while we were out lookin' for ya."

Nora gripped the scabbard with one hand, the other lowering to the embroidered hilt, thumbing the connective wires and battery. Hearing the Chinese military sword _shiiiiiink_ from its confines was almost delectable. She examined the serrated edges - not a pocketmark or scratch in sight, still so well maintained - and held it out in front of her before flipping on the added switch. A current of blue electricity hummed across the steel blade. It wasn't nearly as bright or loud as it once was. The battery was running out of cut the power to conserve what energy it had left. "Buzzkill."

"Yer still t'e only 'un I know who'll play wit' lightning. Might as well stick yer finger in a socket, if ya ask me."

Somebody shouting in the distance brought Nora crashing back to reality. She attatched the scabbard to her beld and stepped forward, despite the cramping in _everything_ and the ridiculous way she swayed uneasily (she felt like a toddler learning to walk again), with gloved fingers clenched tightly around the sword's handle. "Right ... player one has enetred the game."

But Cait gripped her shoulder tight and even Sasha was shaking her head ruefully. "I wouldn't, lass."

" _Why_?"

She wanted to chastise them for holding her back, remind them that she was strong enough to jump into the fray headfirst ... until her body joined their side, casually igniting molten  
stabs to her belly and painting her devolved depth perception black. A few seconds later and she was awakening for a second time. Nora didn't remember the fall, but her skull was sure to raise awareness that it'd struck concrete by thudding dully against her brain.

Cait and Curie hovered over her. Sasha was halfway to them. Rhys still cowered against the wall. Bare Chest was deeply unconscious. Nora blinked slowly.

"Why?" Cait retorted in bitter amusement, touching a head to her forehead and flinching. Nora followed her fingers, surprised by her own cool, tepid texture. "Cuz yer shite right now, dumbass. Ya still recoverin' from a major bleed. An' ya look pale as ... well, I cinnae say rally, ya always kinda were a fuckin' ghostly albin - "

"Not an albino. Fuck you." Nora grunted. Her attempt to rise was botched by several hands pinning her down. "Cait, they're out there - Danse and Deacon and ... what?" A shadow had settled over Cait's face when Deacon's name was mentioned. The general frowned nervously. "Cait?"

"It's ... Deacon's ... "

"We 'eard him scream and zere 'as been radio silence since then." Dread mingled unnaturally with Curie's words. Though her gaze softened, she continued to speak matter-of-factly. "Zis 'as 'appened with ze arrival of ghouls."

Sasha was upon them then. Her twisted features reflected Nora's thoughts. "Did I hear that right?"

Rhys made a noise. Nora twisted her head to examine knotted eyebrows and their eyes locked briefly. He was the textbook definition of panic: pinprick pupils, white skin decked out with random bruises and scratches, rapid breathing whisping through split lips. She could almost see the little hairs on his neck prick. When their gazes finally broke, Nora realized she felt that chill roll up her spine, too.

Tension gripped her eyeballs' rear. Eyelids were weighed down by lead. Numbness teased her fingers, her limbs. Deacon's face flitted into her mind, those eyeglasses ever-present, his lax surfer-guy slur meandering between super chill and super sad. _"I don't even know why I lie anymore ... but I can't tell the truth. Everyone - Tom, Dez, you, even that asshole Carrington - they deserve to be in the Railroad. I don't ... I'm everything wrong with this whole fucking Commonwealth. You're the only friend I got."_

"Is ... is he ... " It was as though her mouth forbade the word. Only after struggling with the first letter's pronunciation for several tries did it spill out. " ... Dead?"

Curie's head shook. "Presumed."

Twitching fingers toyed with Buzzkill's hilt. Nora twisted painfully on the ground, rolling onto her belly and pushing up onto her elbows ... then to her knees. She rolled her shoulders beneath opposing fingers even as darkness threatened to overtake her once more. Dizzy unbalance sent her into the wall and she leaned there, wincing.

"Well ... let's go. Time's a-waisting." Confident in spite of her weakness.

This personality trait wouldn't fly with the Combat Zone ass-kicker. "In th' state yar in, ya couldn' kill a radroach."

Nora shambled forth. Even the stranger-named-Sasha was inhibiting her approach. She growled, "Then _you_ go. I can't fight ... right now ... but you can."

"Someone's gotta watch ya, lass. The lot o' ya've taken a beatin'."

"We don't leave people behind, Cait."

"We're not leavin' 'em behind, _Nora_. Th' others're out thar. They'll find 'im." Cait had never been good at faking emotion. What enthusiasm she tried to carry was contaminated with a darker, realistic understanding.

"I'm not - "

"SASH! **SASHA**!" a woman was screaming from the north. Sasha's head jerked upwards. " **SASHA**!"

"FIONA?!" she yelled in return. She very nearly ran off without a second thought.

Cait hollered for her and Rhys stood, stretching a hand her way. "Sash, don't - "

Every swirling emotion wracking the poor lad's face begged, ' _Please don't leave, please don't'_. Nora felt a pang of empathy for the guy. Sasha stopped guiltily, hung her head ... then stepped towards him. Arms wrapped about his nimble form and their lips interlocked.

Nora wanted to make some kind of, _'D'awww,'_ vocalization, but the potentially deceased Railroad Heavy was prominent in forethought. She could do little more than quirk a lip corner upwards.

Rhys' human eye whirled with troubled thoughts when they pulled apart. "Don't go."

Sasha grinned. "Nope."

He pulled her into an embrace again. Their foreheads bumped. "Sasha ... "

"Hey," she cheerfully bleated, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. "We've already found out it isn't easy to kill me, right? I'll be right back. Don't you worry, Rhys."

Business Suit clearly didn't want to release, so Sasha pried his fingers off gently. Cait crossed her arms, flustered beyond repair. "It's chaos out thar. D'ya rally think t'at's wise?"

"Look, Fiona sounded really close. If I follow her voice, I can bring her back here. I've got enough ammo to last. I'll be back in five minutes, tops."

The Irish woman wasn't given a chance to argue. Sasha was bounding for the broken junk fence. Nora scoffed aloud, "So what, she can go but I can't?"

"Now don' _you_ start," bitched Cait, cheeks emboldened and red.

Nora saw Curie wrapping up her handiwork from the corner of her eye. She removed her needle-finger from the unconscious man's arm and placed a bandage where it had been. "Curie? Could you go with her?"

The Synth looked up. " _Madame_?"

Sasha paused. "Huh?"

"If you're going to go out there," Nora explained, Buzzkill's weight heavy in her hands (and longing to place itself through a few Legionnaire chests), "then I want you to at least go with a trained medic. Just in case, you know? Somebody needs to stay here and watch them. Might as well be Cait and I."

She gestured to Rhys and the unconscious man with a thumb. Shifting from one foot to the other, something in her pockets bumped against her thigh. A thoughtful glimmer crossed her brow. Nora procured one of the two fragmentation grenades from her coat, unveiling it in her palm.

Dredlockes hesitated, but there was no denying her excitement in grabbing for the explosive. "Why?"

Nora winked. "Crowd control."

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine," Sasha laughed, stowing the pineapple grenade away.

"Feral ghouls are attracted to sight and sound. Can't smell for crap. Sight won't be an issue in that smog, so keep quiet."

Sasha started off, but paused. "Keep him safe," she told Nora. The general didn't need to ask who, nor did she have the time to. Curie followed her out, nodding as she passed.

Cait opened her mouth to give Nora a piece of her mind, but a loud voice crackled over her ear-piece. _"Curie, Cait, do you copy?"_

Nora's ears pricked. "Is that ... ?"

"Readin' ya loud n' clear, Mac," Cait spoke to nobody in particular. She could hear Curie echo an affirmative. For a moment there was nothing but feedback. Then MacCready's voice came back at them and Nora felt such a fleeting happiness that she forgot how to stand, wobbling to lean on the fence.

_"Curie, Cait, can you hear me?"_

"Mac, ya readin' me, boyo?"

"He's alive?" Nora breathed, eyes wide.

"O' course he is," Cait stared at her like she'd grown a third head. "Why wouldn' 'e be?"

"I saw his jacket, I thought he - "

_"Curie, Cait, come in!"_

"Piece o' mongrel shite," spat the Irish woman, tapping her communications device. "Doesn't work half the bleedin' time - "

_"If you can hear me ... those feral ghouls followed us from the sea ... they're here. We're heading just outside ... Sanctuary Hills ... Gonna round back and get you once we're cleared ... Lock down in the building ... "_

"Does 'e really think t'at'd work?" scoffed Cait, kicking a rock at the futility of trying to reply. "'E knows them arseholes'll tear down anythin' between 'em an' a good meal."

But Nora was too busy mulling over occurrences - moreso the display of MacCready's bloodstained coat and Piper's flesh-filled hat. The agonizing realization that her two close friends had been murdered was swiftly cast out by an almost ethereal sense of disbelieving hope. "I can't ... this is ... "

"Blue!"

She barely had time to glance up when she was overcome by red leather and gloves. For the second time today, she was pulled into a fieresome bear-hug. This one was much tighter than what Cait delivered. Nora was hefted off her feet and whirled about in a circle. Not only did this upset her stomach, but - "Too tight, too tight - It's a world of ouch - leggo - "

Piper catered to her inclinations, set her on the ground, and loosened her arms. But she did not let go of Nora completely. "Blue, holy crap - "

Full understanding of _who_ exactly embraced her kicked in. Nora returned the gesture, tears nearly springing from her eyes - _eye_. "Piper! Piper, you're alive, I thought they ... I thought they killed you."

"You can't kill the paparazzi, Nora. Come on, you know that." The reporter went to release her, thought it over for a second, and held on some more. "What made you think that?"

"They showed me your hat, Mac's coat. And all that blood and I - I thought ... " Shit, her throat was tightening. _Don't cry, you big ninny._

Piper laughed. Finally her limbs slipped away. "We got lured into a trap at the Glowing Sea, looking for you. Then it got swarmed by ghouls and one of the assholes swiped my damn hat. I think one grabbed Mac's coat. He had to shed it to get away."

Chuckling at her own blind misery, Nora socked Piper playfully in the arm. "Dont you ever do that again, you ... you ... _shit_ bird."

"Shitbird?"

"That's what I said." MacCready was alive. Piper was alive. The gang was here. _Danse_ was back in action - oh she was going to kick Danse's _ass_ when she got her hands on him. But Deacon was ... "Is ... Deac really ... ?"

Shrugging her shoulders and wiping away very present tears, Piper couldn't find it in her to give a straight answer. Instead she looked down and away, and her focus shifted from Nora to Rhys standing by Red Rocket's building. "I thought you guys were still at the Institute?"

 _The Institute?_ Exuberation, solace, and pride swelled in her breast. _So Haylen did it ... The Brotherhood took it to rekindle._

Then Piper Wright saw Vaughn and her happiness evaporated into extreme concern. "Oh my god, what happened to Vaughn?"

Rhys rubbed the bicep of his right arm, bits of his black suit flaking off from potential scorch marks. _Are his buttons ... glowing?_ "We went to follow Fiona. Sasha thought she might be in danger an-and, w ... we followed smoke here ... "

Maybe that was the reason for her vague recognition of the man's face, aside from his honest-to-god paternal resemblance. Nora barely remembered seeing them herded into the clearing, thrown to the ground before her as sacrifices ... or challenges.

And Lanius, cutting down the smaller male.

Then the chase ...

Betwixt Piper and Rhys' spoken words, Nora stared at her hands. Dried blood caked beneath her fingernails, splattered in cracking spots upon her hands. She felt crust on her cheeks, in her hair ... and a definite metallic flavor coating her teeth, forming a solution with her saliva -

She couldn't help the sudden, empty retching. Piper's warm hands were rubbing her back, soothing words rolling off her tongue. It did nothing to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," Nora whispered. She lifted her chin just barely, one eye blurred from the pain of the other's empty, stinging socket.

Piper was confused. "For what?"

But Nora didn't answer, couldn't find the right thing to say. The apology wasn't directed at Piper anyway ... "Abernathy Farm is gone. The Legion ... they burned it down along with anybody in it ... "

The reporter fell into a stunned silence. Cait howled a curse, pumping her armed fist into the wall. It left a sizeable dent.

"And Sanctuary Hills ... They blew it up. I don't know how ... but they did. And all of Boston ... ," she trailed off. She couldn't conjure tears although her eyes stung with their threatening arrival and her frown slung into something sorrowful.

"Most of them are safe," Piper cooed, extending a firm grip to Nora's shoulder. "Preston evacuated Sanctuary into Vault 111. They were relayed to the Institute, along with refugees from Diamond City, Goodneighbor, and a few surrounding settlements."

 _A few?_ "But not all of them."

Defeat. "No ... not all of them."

Nora wanted to take after Cait's example, but she lacked the willpwer to unclench her death grip on Buzzkill and throw her weight into the wall. "God _fucking_ _ **damn it**_."

"It isn't ... as bad as it sounds ... ? Things are ... unifying under duress. Did you know the Railroad and the Brotherhood are sharing the same roof right now? Desdemona and Danse have been negotiating a truce. Preston's been mitigating the Minutemen in your absence. He started sending out search parties to seek survivors."

"Survivors? Duress? Piper ... what happened out here?" A wide sweep of her free arm indicated their current location, though Piper understood she meant the land beyond Red Rocket. "It's ... the whole landscape's been ... _flattened_."

"We'll explain everything to you when - ," Piper started to say when Vaughn moaned, rolled his head, and opened his eyes.

"Vaughn!" Rhys cried.

Gone was the reporter from her side. She slid to Vaughn's, kneeling with the same concern. "Look who's back!"

Nora would have made a welcoming noise, greeted the returning-to-consciousness man with the bare chest with a smile and a wave ... but several events triggered at once.

Several large bodies struck against Red Rocket's junk fence. Wood creaked, snapped, and popped from the brutish force applied by several pairs of strong, hideously mutated arms. The war calls erupting from gruff throats could belong to one species and one species alone.

Super Mutants.

Nora didn't know where they come from or how many there were, but she spun erratically and gestured to Piper. The reporter didn't need to ask, so well was their hidden understanding of each other. She motioned for Rhys to grab Vaughn's shoulders while her own fingers lashed around his feet and they carried him into the Red Rocket's main building. Once inside, Rhys was instructed to keep low and not move.

Then Piper was whisking past Nora, who limped to the automotive store's entrance to play guard dog for Rhys and Vaughn. Buzzkill whirred to life. Perhaps she was wounded. Perhaps she was weak and tired and hurting ... but Nora had not forgotten how to fight.

There was gunfire. There were fists pummeling against massive muscles and rusted armor. Yowls of, "I'LL KILL YOU, HOOMAN!" and, "YOU DIE QUICKLY!" strung out alongside Cait's screeches of rage and Piper's taunts. And then -

_Tick ... tick ... tick ..._

To hell with balls of steel. Definite dread gripped Nora's brain. At her back, Rhys mumbled, "There's that noise again."

"SUICIDER!"

"FUCKIN' SHITE, **FALL BACK**!"

_Tick .. tick .. tick .._

Piper burst into view first, sprinting with loping legs.

_Tick ... tick tick ..._

Cait was next. For somebody who once flew into drug-induced homicidal tendencies, the Irish woman sure knew how to look mortified.

_Tick tick TICK_

Nora pressed against the door frame. Fingers hunted for the frag grenade's twin. She barely looked over her soulder, shouting for Rhys to, "Get down to the fucking ground, Suit!"

Either he was terrified of her because of her previous actions as some malicious monster of hate and bloodthirst or he was fearful of what was coming. But he had no problem throwing himself belly down to the floor, covering a surprised-looking Vaughn with his own body.

_TICK TICK TICK_

And then, rounding the corner, was a beastly manifestation presented with all the horrors the FEV Virus had to offer, clutching a blinking mini-nuke in the crook of its arm like a football. It looked every bit the fearsome linebacker, minus the helmet and (potentially) good looks. For a second it glanced into the garage, saw Nora, and started towards her.

Piper took a pot shot. The .350 caliber round bounced off its cracked chest-plate of bent steel, struck and ruptured a pipe ... but it was a distraction enough to send the Super Mutant Suicider careening back in the reporter's direction. "HEEEEEEEERYAAAA!"

Only when it was a 'safe' (if you could really call it that) distance away did Nora withdraw the grenade, unplug the pin, and throw it while yelling, "GO LONG, BIG BOY!"

She shouldn't have been surprised, really, when the Suicider lurched into a wide turn to catch the object. Then again, nothing going kamikaze with a miniature nuclear bomb could be intelligent -

 _Don't get ahead of yourself, dummy,_ Nora thought to herself, because only now did she notice the overpowering stink of natural gas hissing from the pipe Piper's bullet split open.

"Ohhhhh," the groan rumbled out of her lips. "Fuuuucccck meeeee - "

One explosion (the grenade).

 _Two_ (the mini-nuke).

 _ **Three**_ (the gas pipes).

Screams - Piper, Cait, Rhys, Vaughn, _herself_ ... Cracking concrete ... Breaking glass ... Ceiling tiles were falling ... then bricks ... and then suddenly the ground was no longer there ...

 _That's right ... Wasn't there supposed to be a cave system? Underneath Red Rocket? Where the old owners dumped toxic waste? Rain runoff would drain into it and disappear through a hole in the ground. Sturges and I were supposed to check it out. He was afraid of a sinkhole forming, or that there was an even_ _ **bigger**_ _cave system underground ... because who knows how much erosion can form from 200 years of poor maintenance and bad choices?_ _But, you know, procrastination ..._

They were paying for it now. 'Oh shit' realizations weren't helping them now that the earth was devouring Red Rocket, fence and all. Now they were freeeee, free fallin' ... and flailin', kickin', and screamin' ... into an abyssmal black.

_Welp, Sturges was right._

Hindsight was a perfect 20/20.


	18. Diverging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly uploading chapters here on Ao3 to catch up with the story on Fanfiction.net.
> 
> Currently writing chapter 19.

 

" _Madame_!"

Following Fiona's disembodied voice through the semi-hot, choking smoke was similar to walking down an ever-elongating hallway from a horror movie. The deeper into it Sasha wandered, the farther her sister's voice became, and the more insecure Sasha was beginning to feel about her and Curie's safety.

" _Madame_ , eet 'az been seven meenutes! Ve should 'ead back!"

"FIONA!"

Sasha jerked to the right - thought she heard her sister call - but it was so difficult to discern among the orchestral symphony of bullets, feral snarls, and death cries.

" _Madame_ , _faites attention, s'il vous plaît_!"

" **FIONA**!"

Eventually the ghost of her sister's screaming became one with the background cacophony, lost to the atmosphere of smoke and fire and rain and gunfire. Sasha felt her heart crawl into her throat and nestle there. Growls were growing louder, closer. Somebody ran panting to her left. A railway spike whizzed past her right shoulder. They were going deeper into the lion's den.

Curie touched her elbow so gently and unexpectedly that Sasha jumped, wide-eyed.

"Sasha, ve should return to ze ozers - zey vill be worried!"

Earlier Sasha found herself entertained by how stoic the Synth was in the face of blood and impromptu field medic activities. Now she could see the evident fear rebounding from her faux oculars. Curie wasn't made for combat. Nora ushered her with Sasha for the sole purpose of healing her if injury came her way - a possibility that was growing more likely by the second.

" _Madame_ , did 'ou hear me - "

Suddenly they were upon them - ten hungry, angry sets of claws belonging to the mottled flesh of emaciated walking corpses that howled and raged and slobbered. Teeth gnashed against her skin, grabbed for whatever clump of clothing or exposed appendage they could manage. Curie yelled something in another language. Sasha hollered when two pinned her to the ground, yanking her hair painfully from her scalp, chomping jaw bones leaning in for her throat and face.

Sasha brought up a knee, kicked one in the frail ribs that gave way far too easily. It yowled - in pain or in anger, Sasha couldn't tell - and reeled away by force. An elbow delivered to the other's face dazed it just enough to give Sasha time to re-position herself underneath it before the duo attempted to savage her again. She aimed her submachine gun upwards with its butt against the soggy soil and pulled the trigger.

There was a spray of bullets and a spray of hot blood. It soaked her clothes and splattered her face. Bits of aged skin tapped her lips and Sasha could just _taste_ the radiation, _smell_ the gun's discharge and her heart was bounding, adrenaline surging forth in her veins. A smile spread across her lips - broad and dangerous - and Sasha realized just how much she'd _missed_ shooting things in the face.

_Fiona would love to see me shoot a thing in the face._

Curie was still shrieking and Sasha was on her feet. Three ghouls surrounded the healer woman. They didn't drag her to the earth like Sasha's attackers but instead stood around her, slashing at them with sharper than average fingernails ... and a fourth joined in with **actual claws** , less flesh, an almost bestial impression marked upon its deformed bodice ... Synthetic flesh was flying. Then a finger. An arm.

Sasha unloaded her magazine into them with a roar.

The three 'normal' ferals were down for the count, but the fourth looked undeterred. His (Sasha guessed the gender based upon the ripped clothing it wore) burning white eyes snapped their focus upon _her_ instead. She had just enough time to register _how sharp those teeth were_ before it **howled** and **plowed** towards her.

Sasha's knees flexed not a second too soon, gasping huskily when those claws grazed her skull, wind ripping dreadlocks from the bandanna. She sprinted, turned and fired until there were no bullets left and ejected the empty magazine while the ghoul dipped low, striking claws into the mud and whirling, _skidding_ , to face her once more. Sasha felt in her satchel for more ammunition and found -

_\- Shit! Shit! SHIT!_

There were magazines, but they were for her shock SMG - the one left in the caravan, blown to hell with the rest of the vehicle.

Claw Ghoul roared venomously. Through the smoke Sasha could see movement. More of the average ferals were heading their way in droves, drawn in by the call of their 'pack leader'. And they were moving swiftly, violently twitching, striking blindly through charcoal the haze.

"Fuck fuck _fuck_ ," Sasha hissed. No longer would she be able to blast her way through this situation.

She tossed the submachine gun away - _Useless piece of shit!_ \- and found Curie. The Synth was holding her side, the vacant space where her arm once was oozing fake blood and medical fluids, violently disconnected nervous system wires sparking with electricity. There was no time to ask if she was okay, only time to grab her last remaining limb and pull. Then Sasha was running with no intention of stopping. At least the fates were generous enough to leave Curie's legs intact, lest the Synth would fall behind.

Sasha lead them the way they came - or at least what she _thought_ was the way they came. For a fleeting second, Sasha noticed the absence of gunfire. Where was the Legion? Where was _everybody_? Had they been overtaken?

A bulky, built figure materialized in front of her before Sasha had the chance to slam on the brakes. She slammed headfirst into the firmly muscled torso. Effectively winded by the impact, Sasha drew back and whirred her gaze upwards. Her unintended target grunted disdainfully. Swollen arms, thick and rippling pectorals, a slightly gray tinge to the flesh with bulging veins and larger-than-life hands.

For one heart-stopping second, Sasha was flooded with relief. "Holy shit, Strong! We need your - "

Wandering eyes found the Super Mutant's face. Sasha's smile melted into dread.

" - help ... "

Strong didn't have a lipless grin. Strong wasn't decked out in rusted metal armor with rebar spikes protruding from its shoulder guards. Strong didn't have red bloodlusty irises. And Strong didn't scream like some maniac hopped up on eridium, pumping his arms in the air and whooping as a wild gorilla when faced with a challenger.

"Humaaaaaaaan! I _fouuuund youuuuu_!" Massive digits grabbed for her face. Once again Sasha found herself ducking, sliding to the left while fingers slipped just above her disheveled hair -

\- and inadvertently dragging Curie into the line of fire.

The Mutant's hand practically engulfed the entirety of the A.I. woman's face. He (it?) hauled her into the air, very nearly dragging Sasha with her.

"No, let go!" The con artist gave Curie's hand a sharp yank. She tugged, pulled as hard as she bloody well could while taking into account the horde of relentless feral ghouls approaching from the opposing direction ... "GODDAMN IT, LET GO YOU UGLY SACK OF SHIT!"

Gnarled fingers of the Super Mutant's other hand found Curie's left shoulder. "Allllllll arouund da tarberry bush, da Deathclaw chased da Mole Raaat!"

Sasha was screaming, but Curie ... Curie remained eerily, irrevocably calm and terrifyingly limp. Artificial though they might have been, the woman's eyes wandered to her temporary partner with a kind of bittersweet resolve befitting a hospice patient on her death bed. Sasha could only see one between the Super Mutant's clenched digits. Cheeks moved, lips uttering words muffled by the disgusting palm pressed firmly against her mouth: " _Run_."

Fingers on Curie's head dug deep, cracking unnatural bone beneath their inhuman strength ... the unyielding clutch upon her shoulder wrenching hard downwards ... the Super Mutant twisting the field medic's head, her skin contorting and stretching as her spine's angle became painfully obtuse.

" _Run_."

"CURIE!"

"Pop!" One gratuitous tug was all it took to disassemble Curie's head. "Goes da Mole Raaaaaaat!"

Sasha's scream stilled in her throat. She hedged on movement, lingering somewhere between confused shock and raw anger. A very hungry _want_ to jettison upon the mutant's shoulders and strangle the life out of its thick, veiny neck took root, holstered only by the realization that those feral ghouls were getting closer ... that the Super Mutant was dropping the synthetic corpse, switching attention to Sasha now ... that an incapacitated Vaughn and a scared-out-of-his-mind Rhys was still waiting for her at Red Rocket ...

... That an unpredictable, cataclysmic explosion shook the terrace harder than any other detonation thus far ...

Ice shards slid down her sweaty neck. Hair along her arms stood on end. Faraway screams just barely penetrated her eardrums -

Sasha's body moved of its own accord. She weaved around the Super Mutant's flailing fists and bolted through the smoke beyond the monster, leaving it to be swarmed by feral ghouls that didn't know or didn't _care_ to know the difference between humans and FEV-mutated beings. Their ferocity didn't discriminate, but the Super Mutant sounded utterly disgusted.

It was a mistake to leave Red Rocket.

Heavy footfalls plodded behind her and it took only a heartbeat for Sasha to realize the mutant was hot on her trail. Ghouls bit into its rancid flesh and every time they hit home the mutant was flinging them off. Once or twice the land-shattering footsteps faltered to be replaced by shuddering ghoul death-rattles, and then they would charge all over again.

Her vision was occluded by smoke but Sasha tried to peer through its depths regardless. Where was the bridge? It had to be close. Was she even going in the right direction? What if she'd gotten lost and was plowing right into another beehive of angry Wasteland mutations ready to feast on her bones? What if -

The ground was suddenly removed from Sasha's feet and she fell face first into nothingness. It was a small plummet but it felt like forever. Water rushed up to meet her, streaming into her nose and eyes, rolling over her legs and thighs. For a frantic, thrashing second of her life Sasha thought she might drown until she understood with a hint of shame that while she didn't quite find the bridge, she certainly found the shallow brook it crossed.

 _Shallow_ being the key word here.

"Idiot," she chided herself, laughing nervously.

Sasha's legs were shaking from endorphins as she stood. Multiple twinges of pain informed her of the several cuts and scratches she'd suffered from striking rocks on the way down. Her clothes were saturated through and through.

The smoke here was whisping out, taking on the paler gray hue of mist but overall becoming a little easier to see through. Red Rocket wouldn't be a far hike from here. All she had to do was climb the adjacent bank and make her way down the road.

She was finally alone, but not for long.

Unhampered by the disappearance of its prey, the Super Mutant rolled through unhindered. It stumbled over the stream's edge and crashed like she had, minus the frenetic shouting and limb-tossing. No ghouls followed it save for one - and he leaped clear over the Super Mutant with brandished claws and a gut-wrenching screech.

Sasha fell on her rear. She waded backwards through the rolling liquid, expecting them to turn on her as one and rip her limb from limb. Instead they were focused on one another.

The mutated ghoul cocked his head, giving the Super Mutant enough time to get its bearings before launching into a full-fledged assault. What the nimble zombie lacked in brutish strength it made up for lightning-quick reflexes and scythe-like fingers. It was more like watching somebody swat away an angrily stinging wasp than an actual fight. The Super Mutant guarded its face with the crux of its arm, slapping the air with futility. Inevitably it landed a direct hit against the ghoul's trunk, smashing ribs and sending the raggedy man through the fog. A sickening crunch and the rolling of rubble was evidence it had been thrown into a hard surface.

And then it set its sights on Sasha.

"Heeeeeeeeere, hyuman hyuman!" it catcalled, clapping humongous hands together as if this would make her come to it.

Sasha forced herself to her feet. Was she really just going to act like a frightened mouse when Rhys, Vaughn, and Piper were in danger? Because that was _them_ screaming earlier. She recognized their voices - especially the Atlas CEO's high-pitched woman-shriek. "Haaaa, you don't want me, big boy!" she told the mutant. "I'm all skin and bone! No meat here!"

"DEN I WILL USE YER BONES AS TOOTHPICKS!"

It ran at her. Sasha braced herself, struggling up a battle strategy and preparing to act on it when yet _another_ ghoul zipped from the sidelines into the fray. In a flash of scarlet, it clambered onto the Super Mutant's back, drawing a hand back and plunging it into the monstrosity's back with rapid succession. While the mutant brute shrugged its shoulders and scrabbled at the frail figure latched to it, Sasha could glimpse the sheen of something metal in the ghoul's hand. A dagger? Certainly the ferals didn't know how to use weapons ... ?

The mutant managed to grab the offender's arm as it reached out for another swing. Carelessly tossed forward, both Sasha and the Super Mutant expected the ghoul to hobble awkwardly or go into ragdoll mode. It landed soundlessly on nimble feet - _Boots_ , Sasha noted - swirled and, before the Super Mutant could exact revenge for its transgressions, slashed through the horrendously tree-sized throat of its would-be attacker.

Bright crimson sprouted in thickets from the Super Mutant's gushing injury. It clutched at its wounded neck, gurgling incoherent threats. Gradually it slumped to its knees ... and finally faceplanted the rushing brook, painting the murky waters red: red like the coat the ghoul wore. A coat Sasha had seen before on a Ghoul in Diamond City, coupled with that outrageous tricorn hat and ...

Hancock looked over his shoulder at her. Lips spread in that rotten-tooth grin beneath black eyes, but he remained wordless and his attentiveness was brief. The feral ghoul was lurching through the smog, claws twitching. For a monumentally tense couple of seconds the two radioactively disfigured creatures watched each other ... and nothing else. No shrill battle-calls. No flashing of a blade against lethal talons. No nothing.

The feral was _uninterested_ in Hancock.

Sasha grunted amusement. It was enough to draw the feral's gaze upon her. And _that_ was a mistake.

It rushed her.

Hancock got there first. He jumped Sasha, thrusting her into the brook and climbing atop her so that their chests heaved against each other. The con artist's eyes grew wide. She thumped her fists against his breast, hissing, "What the _fuck_ \- get **off** \- "

But the Goodneighbor mayor covered her flapping lips with a decrepit hand. "Shut up, will ya? I'm tryin' to save your life here - I really don't feel like dealin' with a damn reaver."

Reaver? Was that what the thing with claws was called? Sasha protested these maneuvers in their entirety. She shoved against him with all her might, Hancock's limber frame keeling upwards with surprising ease. He fought back by using his free arm to lock tightly, _painfully_ about her wrist. At first she thought the gruff whuffs and grunts belonged to the Ghoul mayor ... up until she saw the reaver's foot stop mere inches from her temple.

Hancock leaned in close. His dried-leather hand still encapsulated Sasha's mouth. Hot, almost sweet-smelling breath wafted into her face, his lips hovering just above his knuckles. "Shut _up_. And don't move."

Despite her increasing irritation, Sasha found herself obeying Hancock's command. Muscles grew taut and rigid. She observed the reaver from her eyes' corners. It shuffled incessantly about the pair, elbows bent at its sides and claws twitching ever-so-slightly. The chin jerked hither and thither and Sasha found the mannerisms similar to a rooster sizing up a patch of grass. From her standpoint she could not see the reaver's eyes. Hancock precariously tilted his head so that his hat concealed them from view - and perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe eye contact would lock them in combat.

The reaver methodically circled them twice. When it came to the sluggish conclusion that there was no meal to be had here today, the feral hobbled off as if nothing had happened at all. It shambled beyond the mist. Three more minutes passed before Hancock even considered releasing his captive, and that decision was made _slowly_. He loosened his grip from her (now red and pained) wrist and drew a finger to his mouth.

"Keep your voice down unless you want it comin' right back," he warned her. Hancock released her mouth. Sasha sucked in air as though she'd been starved of it. He grinned lopsidedly at her, cheekishly adding, "Now how's about a kiss for your savior?"

Sasha kept her end of the bargain - she remained quiet - but her fist couldn't help but _crunch!_ against his cheek. She pushed his wheeling, groaning form mightily and stood, slugging him in the sternum for good measure. " _Jackass_."

The mayor rubbed his cheek, feigning indignation. "Aww, is that any way to treat a handsome rescuer?"

"I wouldn't say handsome," Sasha retorted, brushing dirt from her pants.

"Plenty other ladies have."

"Oh? And were they all Ghouls too?"

His suave smirk may have wooed the hearts of other women, but Sasha was unbothered as he flashed it her way. "Not _all_ of them."

The con artist sighed. " _Thank_ you, you perverted bundle of leatherflesh. That was quite the display of stabbery back there on the Mutant. Why didn't the reaver go after you?"

"I'll take the compliment." Sasha briskly crossed the brook, pressing her hands onto the slick rocks protruding from the bank's edge. She began to climb as Hancock caught up to her. "And I dunno. Maybe they see us as kin or maybe we just taste bad to 'em. Never asked. Ain't like they'd respond anyhow." The Ghoul spidered after her with ease, looking up for a ... ah ... _tasteful_ view or her hindquarters and humming approval. "The hell were you doin' out there? Thought Curie took you n' the two guys to Red Rocket."

"Yeah ... ," Sasha managed while pulling herself over the edge. She stopped to help Hancock up, but the Ghoul seemed to manage fine on his own. "Heard my sister screaming so I ... well ... "

His skull tilted. "Sister?" he pressed sleazily. "So there's more gorgeous gals like yourself?"

"Fiona, and we're both off-limits there, Romeo."

" _Fiona_? That _minx_ is your sis? How the fuck did that happen? Ya don't look anything alike. You the milkman's baby?"

"Milkman's ... what?" Confusion lit across her previously frustrated expression. She shook her head at Hancock's shrugging shoulders. Sasha toyed with the idea of running towards Red Rocket but with her previous 'stumble' still fresh in memory, she vouched instead to walk quickly through the mist once she'd found the cracked pavement of road. "Adoptive sisters. We were both orphans."

"Ain't that the way the world works," the Ghoul laughed, tugging the corner of his tricorn. Grubby fingers dug for the communication device stuffed into his ear canal. He ripped it out with disgust. "Yeah well, last I saw she was with Mac so you ain't got anything to worry about. Last I _heard_ , they found a basement bomb shelter thing and're huddlin' there 'til the dust settles." He flicked the tiny mechanism nonchalantly into the distance. It clattered somewhere beyond their view.

It was an action that shocked Sasha. She about made a dive for it. "Don't you _need_ that?"

"It's a piece of crap. They _all_ are. Bits o' pre-war tech we haven't really been able to fine tune." Scoffing the misfortune, Hancock kicked a rock. "The Commonwealth relies on HAM radio transmissions from radio towers about ready to give way under their age. The Brotherhood was too occupied amassing its army and stealing technology and the Institute too busy kidnapping good folks and makin' Synths to bother improving communication. So little wireless thingamajig's like _that_ don't function like they oughta, and they sure as shit don't have a long life span. But, but, _you_. Don't tell me ya went out into Sanctuary on yer own?"

"No, well, Curie went with me ... " Guilt throbbed heavily in her chest. Sasha's voice lowered, drifting into a somber note.

Hancock picked up on the mood change immediately. He expressed his awareness with a frown. "And ... where is Curie now?" When Sasha shook her head, the Ghoul cussed heavily under his breath. "She was such a foxy, innocent little Synth. First Deacon, now ... " He balled his hands into fists, looked ready to tear into whatever came their way. Unable to punch at anything except a boulder, Hancock instead focused his rage into the smashing of several stones with his boots.

An abysmal sensation of helpless darkness encircled her heart. Sasha almost felt breathless. "It was my fault." _If only I'd ducked the other way or tugged her down before the Mutant could grab her or ... or ..._ Was this what Rhys felt after Helios fell? It was nothing in comparison to the massive scale of devastation he'd accidentally set in motion.

"I don't wanna hear that bullshit," warned the Ghoul with a growl. "So the boys're alone at Red Rocket? We should hurry 'fore more muties come rollin' their way."

"Not alone. Cait and Piper're there too. There's the other woman, but I dunno how well she'd hold up in a fight considering her injuries."

If Hancock had ears, they would have pricked. Regardless of his deformation the Ghoul definitely became a little more alert and a little more ... well ... there was a slight _bounce_ in his step, even if it only lasted a moment. "Silvery-hair babe?"

"Yeah."

" _Fuck right_! I thought I was seein' ghosts. Didn't believe 'em when they started babbling over the comm 'bout her. That was one _fuck_ of a hit she took."

Sasha found it unnerving how quickly Cait and Deacon's demises seemed to vanish from his mind, but flicker of shadow across his blackened eyes told her that the realization still stood prominent. They were at war. There was no time to mourn for the dead when a very real threat of joining their ranks loomed with booming resonance. Hancock and her were rounding the street's bend now. Only a few more feet and Red Rocket would come into view.

."What about the others?"

"We managed to get a couple sentences in before those little shitty comms crapped out. Everybody but Mac n' Fiona's headin' to Finch Farms for temporary shelter. Sounded like the Legion's hot on their trail so they'll be straight-shooting to HQ."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"I wanted to see if there was any truth to what I saw, girly. I mean - Nora - _c'mon_."

Sasha wanted to ask how exactly they planned on getting back to the Institute with all possible relay vehicles destroyed. Was there a chance that, among the wreckages, the courser chips still remained? Digging through heaps of scrap metal was unappealing to say the least. And there was no chance in hell she was going to venture back into the battlefield to look for them. Was there a backup plan - maybe a direct route to get to HQ that didn't rely on heavily advanced technology?

She desired to inquire all these things and more, going so far as to look past her shoulder to Hancock and open her mouth. Words faltered when concern lit the Ghoul's face and he came to an abrupt halt. "Looks like the muties got here first."

Sasha mimed his expression effortlessly, turning in time to avoid tripping over a bloodied, bullet-riddled Super Mutant carcass. There were several more where that one came from, the reasons for their fatalities immeasurable and not quite clear at first glance, strewn about the scenery in different locations and positions but all very close to Red Rocket's fence line ... or where the fence line was _supposed_ to be.

Where the refueling station once stood prominent was a seemingly bottomless sinkhole edged with slipping debris and shattered asphalt. The only indication Red Rocket had even _been_ there were the bits and pieces of broken fence and half the garage's billboard.

Sasha felt her knees weaken and give way. She didn't even feel them strike the ground hard and start to bleed. Her mouth hung open, syllables forming on her tongue but unable to fuse and concoct a single verb. Back was that helpless weakness. "Uh ... uh ... " There was no correct way to describe the fluttering sensation in her torso. A blank canvas of white blanketed a mind brimming with thoughts only seconds beforehand.

Hancock wasn't much better than her, but at least he'd been able to remain standing. "Well ... that's - that's ... "

"What ... ?" Unable to vocalize the question, Sasha pointed down into the darkened pit. Attempting to see the bottom only rewarded her with fifty shades of black. The Ghoul mayor dragged himself to her side, mouth creasing into perplexed disapproval.

"I think ... m-maybe ... _shit_ , man, our lives are completely fuckin' _governed_ by Murphy's Law. Or maybe it's karma, ball rolling down the hill crap like kinetic energy or momentum or ... " His babbling disintegrated into furiousness. He knelt down and began punching the road until his knuckles sprung leaks. "This is total **bullshit**!"

"Rhys ... Vaughn ... " Her mumbling was incoherent, far-off.

"I bet it was that **motherfucking cave**."

"Cave?"

"The dumbfucks that owned this place - before the big bombs dropped, y'know? This station was used to recharge the nuclear fusion cores in cars. The stuff that started decaying got dumped into a little cave system just underneath it." Grimacing, Hancock started to rub the bridge of his nose until he remembered he didn't have one. "Fast forward 200 years. One of the fuckin' Minutemen thought all those barrels and rain runoff was erodin' the ground. Nora wanted to go all do-gooder and check it out but then the Brotherhood jocks and the Railroad were at each other's throats and we _kinda_ got roped into a war between 'em. Then Nora went missin' and all this other bullshit got started ... " A harsh laugh barked through tightened teeth. "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, right?"

Sasha scanned the landscape, dreary fatigue replaced by dire urgency. "Maybe ... maybe we can find a rope and repel down there, right?"

"Yeah," Hancock was shaking his head. "That ain't gonna happen, sweetcheeks."

She bristled at the nickname, cheeks adopting a brilliant shade of crimson. "Why the hell not?"

The redcoat Ghoul plucked a pebble an tossed it into the gaping vacancy. It took roughly half a minute for them to hear it _plunk!_ against something solid. "Because it's deeper than the seven layers of Hell." He stood up. Sasha didn't realize he was hoisting her up by her arm until she was on her feet as well. "Let's head ... We can make our way to the Charles River and cross the bridge into Boston there. If the bridge is even still standin'."

Sasha attempted to pull away, but the mayor's lithe frame shadowed his true strength. "We can't just take off! They could be alive down there and - "

" - And they'll be _fine_ ," Hancock bit back a little harsher than he'd intended. Fire conjured behind the blackened orbs staring her down. "They're alive. Ain't no other alternative."

She doubted his conviction. "You sound confident."

"Yeah well, when ya get tossed from a six story window only to get yer broken body dragged to safety by one _stubborn_ wolf of a woman, ya start to reconsider death as a really good Houdini trick." He reaffirmed his statement by flashing a bright grin mottled with green and black teeth. "On a related note, ya got Piper down there with yer alien buds. She's a tricky little radroach. Ya just can't stomp her out. An' Cait's too tough to go down 'cuz of one little pitfall. _And_ there's Nora - that's like havin' insurance for your insurance. Trust me, they'll do just fine."

Sasha was reluctant to leave. She didn't want to imagine the minefield of debris sunken to the bottom of the crater. She didn't want to picture Rhys' limpl body strung lifelessly on a gathering of stones ...

"Do you think they can get out?" she asked meekly. Hancock let go of her shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat.

"If there's water in that cave down there, ya can bet it'll be movin' east with the terrain's incline. I'm guessin' it'll empty out towards the ocean - which is lucky, cuz that's where we're gonna head. There's probably a cave entrance up on the shore linkin' to this one. We can mark spots on the way there with our names, just in case the others come looking for us. Like bread crumbs."

Sasha's stare settled on his knowing face. "The ocean? Isn't that far?"

"Ya never been out that way, have ya? Well, no. It ain't far. I mean it's a good hike from Diamond City but not _far_ far."

"Why ... why are we going to the ocean? I thought we were heading to HQ?"

"We are."

"So how are we gonna relay back there?"

"Back where?"

"The Institute."

"Why would we go to the Institute?"

Sasha was growing flustered. "Because _you said_ we were going to the headquarters."

"We are." The Atlas co-leader started in again but Hancock silenced her with a raising of his index finger. " _Not_ the Institute. We're goin' to the original command center. Sanctuary Hills was just a place for weary folks to rest their heads an' a traditional gatherin' spot for us mongrels. And for a long time, the Institute was this mystical place nobody knew the location of. Nah, we're goin' to the place where we formed tactical missions and relayed information to the whole Commonwealth. It's got big guns, fortified walls, one mean sentry bot and a whooooooole lotta manpower. We're goin' to the _Castle_."


	19. Titanslayer

_**** _

_The sky was bright - not a cloud in sight. Birds sung sweet tunes endlessly to one another. Crisp beginnings of autumn clung to the morning air, a pending chill drowned out from the morning's overbearing sun. New shoes slid easily along grass coated with fresh morning dew, birthing enticing aromas to tango through the olfactories._

_Sitting atop the green, clean courtyard was a massive white building rivaling the White House in structure. Heavy pillars loomed out the front of its construction, heralding the entrance that beckoned to new students. On any other day, she might have found its gigantic presence intimidating. But she could hardly contain her excitement - for this was the start of something new, something idealistic and dream-conquering. It was an expression mirrored on the faces of other students: several dozen crossing the threshold into Massachusetts' Institute of Technology._

_Nora shifted the book-stuffed backpack wearing on her shoulders. The trip here had not been easy. It was difficult enough lining up a job to pay for her new apartment. At least her excellent test scores had been more than enough to earn her free passage into the university. Now the way was paved open to her._

_A girl about her age sidled up next to her. Janet was a contrast to everything she was: thick build to her wiry frame; short to her tall; somewhat crooked back to Nora's impeccable stature; black hair to her pale blond, almost white lockes. The woman shone a sidelong smile her way, adjusting her glasses amid struggling under the huge turtle shell of a satchel slung across her spine._

_"You ready for this, Nom?" pressed Janet, her term of endearment accompanied by a wink. The nickname was appropriate, considering Nora's ability to consume everything in sight without gaining a pound. They'd gone to breakfast together that morning and she'd plowed through pancakes, bacon, and eggs in record time._

_Nora chuckled. "Ready as ever, shorty."_

_"Aw man, I hate it when you call me short."_

_"You've got the brains to make up for height - er, lack thereof - my bespectacled friend."_

_"I'm sure it works the other way around, eh?"_

_A scoff. "Hell no. What's your first class?"_

_"Global medicine. You?"_

_"Introduction to programming. Hey, make sure you ask' em for a booster seat, kay?"_

_Janet laughed, elbowing her playfully in the ribs. Her face become mildly curious as she peered to Nora's side. "Hey there. Hot stuff, three o' clock. Somebody's checking you out."_

_In the distance, a sound of sirens. So dull and far away._

_"Already?" Nora tilted her head, glancing the scenery from askance. Janet wasn't joking. The man looking her way was shorter than her, but many people were. He was quite the handsome charmer. Black hair, gray eyes, a lean body accented with just enough muscle ... Their gazes met briefly. Crimson flared in his cheeks and he looked away quick enough to cause whiplash. "I've seen him before," Nora added with a grin, a rose blemish complimenting her pale cheeks._

_"I think he works at the auto shop a little ways out of Boston. The one we went to when the car broke down a few weeks back? Nathan? Nick? Nate? I don't remember his name."_

_Flashing reds and blues. People running into the street. Shrieking. Crying. The powerful whir of vertibird rotors growing louder by the second. Nora's ears pricked at the sudden convulsion of environmental sounds. Teal orbs flickered from one chaotic scene to the other, but all the students surrounding her ... they just kept right on doing what they were doing: crossing the grassy knoll into campus. They were either deaf or dumb or ..._

_"It's coming."_

_The voice was from Janet's direction but it didn't_ _**sound** _ _like Janet._

 _Probably because it_ _**wasn't** _ _Janet._

 _When Nora looked, her body had transformed. It was taller now. That yellow jumpsuit adorning her form was almost blinding compared to her almost bleached skin. Pale blue markings encircled her left arm. That_ _**hair** _ _really threw her for a loop. Electric blue? Who did that? She could not see her face, for the stranger had her back turned to Nora. That notion disturbed her greatly for some reason._

_Nora tentatively reached her right arm out, touching the woman's shoulder with fingers that were now the brilliant silver of a lovingly polished titanium arm (a matter that, for some reason, did not feel at all alien.)_

_Bright lights appeared in the sky. Blazing comets with metal hulls so vividly noticeable as the blinding sunlight reflected off of their shiny surfaces._

_Nora cleared her throat. It was deeper now but not by much. Definitely masculine. "Are ... are you okay?" she/he stammered. "What's coming?" Silver digits tugged the shoulder lightly._

_When their faces were turned to one another, she/he felt their heart drop._

_She had no eyes._

_This woman with blue hair ..._ _**she had no eyes** _ _. Empty, bloody sockets stared back from the vacancy where orbs should have been. Crimson bodily fluids streamed from the twin trenches._

_Her lips were moving, the words escaping in short, raspy breaths. "The ... end of ... worlds."_

_Nora slunk backwards, fear gripping every aching bone. Something soft tripped her/him and she/he fell to the ground. From the corner of her/his gaze, they could see a body, horribly mutilated, gore exposed and hanging from ripped, splintered skin. Bile rose in their throat. Terror stiffened legs clad in tattered, stained, and abused black dress pants. He could no longer move._

_The steel husks were falling from the sky, separated by lengthy distances. Several vanished over the horizon but one loomed close ... so close ... aiming just south of their position._

_No-Eyes-Blue-Hair shambled forth as a zombie would. When her feet struck his skag-skin boots, Maya fell atop him. Cold fingers found his throat. Her thumb traced the edges of his trachea. For all that he was, he could not stop_ _**shaking** _ _... could not_ _**move** _ _... but he could do everything else. He could be aware of the fact that he was going to die. He could panic. He could hyperventilate until Maya took the ability away with a harsher than normal squeeze._

_Her face transformed into one of a man in a mask, that grin spitting maliciousness and victory. "What happened guy? Ya take a knock to the head?"_

_Rhys was immediately aware of a throbbing, pulsating pain at the back of his skull. It was overpowering. His brain was screaming agony in synchronization with the tumult of terrified civilians flooding the roads in a last-ditch effort to escape imminent doom._

_With a blink, Handsome Jack was no longer Handsome Jack. His skin mottled into red-hued-shadow. Fingers became claws cloaked in darkness. Those eyes were suddenly glowing pools of teal. It spoke with a gruff growl, maw splitting open in a pool of glowing light._

_"Hrrrearth to Rhys?"_

_Grass was no longer beneath them. It became solid steel shaped like a giant gear. People surrounded them in different stages of panic. Neighbors with suitcases. Couples holding hands. A familiar woman holding a crying baby, a black-haired man wrapping an arm about her waist and cooing comforting words that mattered nothing when an explosion forced the whole world to shudder, throwing a flashbang into the atmosphere so intense that everybody had to shield their eyes._

_The monster pinning him cocked its head. Rhys could see the shadow skin peel away into a pale, human complexion reverberating concern before sudden heat, blistering illumination, and searing pain from the back of his head forced him to close his eyes._

_"Come on, Bro! Wake up!"_

"Bro?"

Rhys groaned audibly. His head lolled to the side - an action he quickly regretted as the throbbing intensified. Stomach swirling, he longed to empty it of its contents but lacked the ability to get up. Chunks lifted into his throat. Tearfully, he swallowed them back down.

"Oh thank god! I thought you were ... " That was Vaughn. Definitely Vaughn. Rhys dared to open his eyes and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was. Wherever they were, it was dark. Really dark.

"Too stubborn for that, bro," Rhys responded, bitterly aware of the shakiness in his own voice. "Just saw my life flash before my eyes and all I could see was a close tag."

In spite of himself, Vaughn snorted.

"PIPER!"

"PIIIPER! Can you hear us?!"

Rhys attempted sitting upright with a, "What's going on?", and withdrew immediately. The bone of his head was screaming.

Vaughn steadied him back down. "Careful, man. You took one hell of a hit."

"Yeah ... " Reaching around to the back of his skull, Rhys' human fingers found a warm, wet spot. He drew his hand back and saw red staining the tips of his digits. "Again?" He forced himself to check himself once more, this time pressing around the injury site. Expecting a spongy feel, Rhys was relieved to find the parietal bone still very sturdy. "At this rate I should invest in a titanium skull ... "

"That'd hurt like a bastard, bro." Vaughn shook. He pressed the rags of his arm against the bandage on his chest and Rhys suddenly remembered the events leading up to this whole ordeal. Vaughn, only a little while ago, had been so close to death ... bleeding like a stuck pig until that Synth girl came along and patched him back up.

Begrudging his every motion, Rhys' head continued to throb even as he defied it by forcing himself into a sitting position. Prying fingers reached for Vaughn's wound dressing. His colleague didn't resist while he gently pulled it back. He was expecting a mess. Maybe the stitches popped and it would be leaking everywhere or ... or ... But both human and cybernetic eye widened considerably.

"Whoah." Curie's skills were no joke. There were a lot of stitches - Rhys counted sixteen right off the bat - but the crack in his (now very pink) flesh was almost completely vanished. It was surrounded by a slightly reddish hue. "That's, um ... "

"I know, right? I think that was the Super Stimpack. Kinda works the same way those little red health vials do on Pandora. You should see your leg, bro. I mean, that was probably the monocyte thinger, but the medicine here isn't a joke."

His leg? A solemn, almost regretful expression took root between his eyes and mouth. That's right ... the monster that was Nora had cleaved through the bend of his knee. Rhys felt there, expecting a deep, painful groove and finding only smooth skin.

"I'm kinda thinking about setting up a trade to stock up on what they got once Cassius gets the Fast-Travel set up. The Children of Helios could really use some of this in case some psychos come knocking."

"PIPER!"

More shouting. He didn't notice it before, but the holler echoed all around them and drifted far into the darkness, dissipating into the gradual 'natural' noises of sloshing water and dripping liquid. The air here was dank and damp. Just enough light penetrated from the massive hole where they'd made their entrance for Rhys to see wet rock surrounding them on every side.

"PIIIIPER!"

He didn't care for the pounding headache, but the monocyte breeder would take care of the oozing gash on his head. Rhys pried away from concerns of his own health to focus on the goings-on of the here and now. "What's going on?"

Vaughn's contortion into sympathetic concern was immediate. "Piper's missing. Cait and Nora've been digging around looking for her while I tried to wake you up. Thought she got caught under some of what's left of that building we were holed up in but ... "

The two women were silhouetted faintly against some kind of pit. A bubbling sound effect caught them both off guard. It was enough to jolt the into action.

"There!" Nora pointed downwards.

She started to slough off her jacket but Cait was so much quicker in removing her raider armor. The rebar-decorated leather clattered loudly to the ground and the Irish woman swan dove into the abysmal nothingness. A loud splash confirmed Rhys' suspicions of it being a lake: a huge, underground lake.

Rhys pushed onto his forearms and struggled to his feet, stumbling when the robotic limb threatened to give out. Just how much damage did Nora's monster form wreak upon the circuitry with her teeth? "Did they find her?" he whispered with true concern. He didn't know Cait and what he'd seen of Nora terrified him. But Piper ...

Vaughn shrugged, but he was passing Rhys at a brisk jog to the lake's edge. Nora was on her knees, watching with a certain helplessness that almost made the CEO feel bad until he recalled those glowing eyes and sharpened claws.

One second became too many. Vaughn was holding his breath. Just when Nora was about to leap headlong into the stagnant pool after her friends, Cait emerged with a limp body in her grip. She swam to shore with one arm, treading water when she got close enough to push Piper towards land. "She ain't movin'!"

Nora grabbed one of Piper's arms and Vaughn snatched the other. Together they hefted the all-too-still reporter from the water, dragging her a short distance away. Cait extended an arm and Rhys, with his human limb, grabbed and pulled until the raider chick was able to get a footing, climbing the rest of the way on her own.

Nora was leaning over Piper, ear to her mouth and eye on her chest. The reporter was completely waterlogged. She'd probably fallen in and, weighed down by wet clothing, sunk to the bottom. Or maybe she couldn't swim. Either way, "She's not breathing!"

Cait sprung to their side in a flurry of curses. Rhys felt his chest tighten. Vaughn went to take action, but Nora was faster than the lot of them. She balled one hand into a fist and, holding both appendages together, performed compressions in rapid succession.

"One, two, three ... ," she huffed.

At thirty Nora stopped, clamped Piper's nose shut, tilted the unconscious woman's head, and completely covered Piper's mouth with her own. One breath - Rhys watched the reporter's chest rise - two breaths ... then back to compressions.

By the third cycle, they heard a loud _cccrraack!_ and the firm rigidity of Piper's chest gave way under the force Nora was delivering it. "I think she broke a rib," Rhys grimaced.

"They say that's how you know you're doing it right," murmured Vaughn.

One cycle seven, Nora was looking both out of breath and in extreme discomfort. She arched slightly, bending a little more than she had to in favor of the pain of her abdomen. Vaughn took point on the situation. He nudged a very reluctant Nora out of the way to take over where she'd left off. The Minutemen general hung back with one arm draped loosely over her belly.

When the tenth cycle of CPR came to a close and the eleventh started, everybody was beginning to look pretty grim - moreso than they already were. Just when defeat was about to overtake them on the thirteenth set, Piper sprang suddenly to life. Liquid gushed from her nose and mouth. Vaughn and Nora rolled her onto her side. The reporter spewed gallon after gallon of water and vomit until she could expunge no more, lapsing instead into a fit of gasping and coughing.

Her eyes were fluttering open. "What - what - ?"

Nora laughed. Vaughn and Rhys both exhumed long, harsh sighs. Cait dropped to her knees and socked Piper roughly enough in the arm that the reporter mewls in pain.

"Dun' ever do tha' again, _bitch_."

"What the _fuck_ , Cait - "

"Maybe it's time," Nora wheezed, "we taught you how to swim, eh?"

* * *

"So really, where the fuck are we?" Piper asked when she came to enough to speak with coherence. Cait managed to dig a ratty old bedroll from Red Rocket's rubble, wrapping the reporter in it to stop her from shivering so much. They didn't exactly have a change of clothes for her to slip into. "I get that we're underground, but ... "

"That's really it, though. Sturges was right. That leak under Red Rocket eroded the shit out of the ground." Nora shook her head. "I mean, I guess this cave system was here already. But the sinkhole?"

A singular teal orb watched the lanky man in the business suit pace back and forth. He would stop every now and then to peer upwards, terror flirting with the fretting anxiety creasing lines into his forehead. The hole's outline was so small against what little light was left of the sky. It was definitely some crazy miracle they hadn't died from the fall or been crushed by heavy debris - a fact that was probably the reason the businessman was shaking so badly.

He'd convinced himself to stop shouting not that long ago. The distance between here and topside was too phenomenal for any of them to be heard by whoever might have been left up there. There was no way to tell if the all-out brawl was still going strong or not. And now, as the ghostly light of the setting sun began settling into an ocean of black, they soon wouldn't even be able to see the rising of smoke and mist ... let alone each other down here in the underground.

Nora felt her shoulders sag. "I don't suppose anybody's got a light?"

"I _did_ ," Piper removed a flip-lighter from her pocket, shaking it remorsefully. "But it's, well, _wet_."

Cait's head swayed from side to side. "Nothin'." She joined the CEO in pacing, albeit several feet away.

Vaughn, as Nora learned he was called, elbowed his friend in the ribs. It started the taller man into a stiff posture and a wide-eyed gaze. "Hey bro, your hand."

"My ... hand?" The glowing Synth eye was blinking rapidly. Realization dawned and settled. "Oh. Right. My hand." Metal flashed in the barest beam of dwindling sun. Light flashed from his palm - not from something in his palm, but from his _actual_ palm. "I, uh, I don't know how long it'll last. It - It got a little busted."

Nora stood, slinking towards him with sparked curiousity. At her approach, Rhys doubled back and there was that fear again. A bitter taste kicked into the back of her throat. "How did you do that?" she asked him, speaking softly to try and ebb his caution away. It didn't work. "Is it a new Synth mod or something? That's pretty cool."

"It's just ... just a light," he told her, voice laced with uneasy acid. "And I'm _not_ a Synth."

Nora looked to the artificial eye socket and tilted her head. "I bet you get that a lot then. Being mistaken for one, I mean. Prosthesis?" She studied him momentarily, getting her first good look at the stranger without Super Mutants breaking down the gates. Teal ocular fastened on his neck's black mark. She raised a brow, smiled broadly, and extended a hand to his not-metal one. "We haven't really been properly introduced. Because, you know, total chaos. Nora. Nice tats."

He looked a little taken aback by the compliment, but it did appear to ease his tension. The man looked from Nora to her outstretched fingers and back again and she realized how outlandishly tall the two of them were compared to everybody else. Vaughn was several sizes too small, with Piper and Cait both at least standing a foot higher than him. But her and this guy? They were damn near eye level. Same beanpole stature. Same limbs way too long for their bodies.

Refusing to take up her cordial hand-greeting due to the fear overruling his body language, he at least seemed to lower his guard just a little. "Uh, thanks. I'm - I'm Rhys."

There was that same twinge of familiarity. Nora didn't dwell on it for long. Guilt held a firm grasp on her mind as she glanced at Rhys' titanium fingers. Half of them were dented and scratched. The once shimmering metal plating the back of his hand was lined with teeth marks. Nora frowned. Rhys noticed her examination and pulled back just a little.

Such a hasty movement caused his palmar flashlight to flicker, then fade. Rhys flicked his wrist several times and the light graced him with teasing flashes, but it wouldn't return fully. "Ah, _damn_ it."

Nora started to state that she might be able to fix it, but Vaughn interrupted. "I've got matches. We could ... I dunno, make some torches?"

"With _what_?" Cait snapped.

But Piper was already digging through the Red Rocket scrap pile of twisted sheet metal and broken furniture. She managed a few essentials - splintered chair legs, tattered cloth, oil - and in no time they were armed with three burning lamps.

"Done and done," she uttered cheerfully, brandishing her own torch as though it were the last beacon of hope for humanity.

Cait would not be quelled into silence. "How's about we get the fuck _outta_ here? They're in trouble up top, or did ya forget t'at?"

Nora resigned with a relenting sight. "Of course not." They'd been tending to the wounded, making sure Piper could manage and that Rhys didn't have a damn concussion. But Cait's impatience was mirrored in the depths of her own soul.

Rhys looked positively troubled. "Yeah - we need to - Sasha and Fiona are still - "

Vaughn waved his torch overhead. "There's no way we're climbing up that."

"Then how can we get out?" Piper asked. She'd held her torch to the side and it partially illuminated the underground lake ... and the way it moved, ever so slightly, beyond their sight. A current.

Nora didn't have a torch to drive her point, but she extended a forefinger ahead of them. "Our best bet's to see where this cave empties out. This water's gotta go somewhere." _And hopefully not into some deeper, primordial sea or some shit. Or into a horde of ..._ Nora hesitated. "Does everybody have at least one weapon?"

She knew Cait and Piper were both armed. The Irish woman wielded a power fist, the knuckles lined with sharp rebar rods, and the reporter had her .350 pistol. But the other two? Vaughn responded to the question by patting his hip. It was such an awkward-looking projectile weapon, but Nora easily recognized the plasma weapon. And Rhys ... well, he motioned to the stick tethered to his belt. It looked similar to the retractable batons normally held by Institute Synth's, but this one had a unique bulb at the tip. Stun baton?

Of all of them, Rhys looked the least combat ready. But who knew? She'd been surprised before.

"Awesome," Nora mouthed, nodding to the cave pathway ahead. It was dark and uninviting, edge on the right by a sluggishly-moving stream dumped from the underground reservoir. Nothing could be heard ahead of them and so far all was clear, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be something lying in wait just beyond their range of sight. "Be ready for anything and if you see something, _say_ something."

They were on the move: stepping with caution at first and gaining confidence and speed as their distance into the void increased with no trouble. Nora didn't find it surprising that she was taking the lead. Cait and Piper were at her back with Vaughn flanking and Rhys somewhere in between. Traversing in silence with only each other's breathing providing an adequate soundtrack, Nora found she missed her Pip-Boy and its repeating audio. Even the melancholy tales of the Silver Shroud would be better than this.

She almost didn't notice Cait at her heels until her red hair flashed into view. "So what th' fuck actually happened to ya? Ya know ya were gone fer two whole fuckin' years? Didn't leave a note or nuthin'. We thought ya mighta bitten the big one."

Nora managed a broad grin. "You should know me by now, Cait. That's never gonna happen."

"Ya sound like th' metal cop."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. 'Keep laughing at death and someday death's going to laugh back'." Nora chuckled.

Cait's haggard features switched to a gentle smile that was entirely unfitting of her. "Yeah, well, it's good to be havin' ya back in th' merry band of misfits."

"So what happened?" Piper backed Cait's unanswered query. She slid to Nora's left, thumb rolling over her pistol's hammer. "We get that you were kidnapped and we know by _who_. But why? Why take you away?"

Nora scratched her neck. She cast a weary glance over her shoulder. The two men had fallen back a little, engrossed in deep conversation with one another. "I can't exactly give a clear answer."

"Try."

"I mean ... Let's backtrack a little, huh? Right after the Prydwen fell and the whole Brotherhood of Steel bit went to hell in a hand basket, I came up with this hair-brained idea to get the Institute going again. To do things right this time around." Thought Nora was now watching where she was walking, she felt her hair prick along her arms and spine as eyes roved onto her from behind. "Shaun was ... His ideas were ingenious and there was so much _good_ that could've been done for the Commonwealth if he'd just been willing to give its inhabitants a chance, you know?"

Mentioning her son's name came with a boulder-sized weight of grief and shock. Her heart picked up the pace to echo her despair. There were so many doubts rolling through her head and to this day, she was never really sure if the man who claimed he was Shaun was, in fact, her biological son and not somebody assuming the title to trick her into submission. That restless uncertainty was going to follow her to her grave.

Piper noticed the way she looked down and away. Gloved fingers touched her shoulder and Nora wished she could have found more comfort in that than she did when caressing the hilt of her sword.

"I took to Boston Airport. Figured I'd scrounge up supplies from the airship's wreckage - whatever was left behind that scavvers didn't wrangle away. Military circuit boards, copper wire, maybe bits and pieces of power armor to repair the damage done inside the Institute."

She remembered how much blood had been spilled when Z1-14 had is way with the Synth rebellion. How had everything gotten so topsy-turvy?

"Digging through everything there took a little longer than I thought it would. I didn't expect to be out past nightfall, but as luck would have it ... The airport became a breeding ground for mole rats, so I kinda figured I'd end up falling in a den before the night was through. Dogmeat kept an ear out for me though. He started growling a few times - all puffed fur and teeth - but I never saw anything. Didn't doubt for a moment that we weren't alone, but for all I knew it could've been a bloatfly getting too close then wandering away.

"It wasn't until I started getting to the heart of the airport that things got crazy. The Children fo Atom were hiding beneath slabs of scrap metal and whatnot the whole time. And it was ... I don't know how to explain it. They didn't _attack_ me the traditional way. No gamma guns and knives or anything like that. And they never laid a hand on Dogmeat. But a bunch of them managed to gang up on me and it was 'hello chloroform, goodnight Wasteland'!

"I woke up in some kind of laboratory. All blinking lights and computers. In a test tube filled with liquid, because clearly suspended animation is my niche in life. No Dogmeat. No Pip-Boy. No _clothes_. I was stark naked, ladies and gents."

Piper's eyes twitched angrily, but Cait could not hold back a chortle. "Ya blinded 'em wit' yer pearly white complexion, didja?"

"Up yours', ginger," Nora bit back, but she was grinning. Thinking back to the scenario, she rubbed unconsciously at one of her wrists. Phantom pains still came and went. She could almost feel the IVs still present ... "They had me hooked up to all these tubes. Needles in both wrists. I think one was feeding fluid into me and the other was removing it. Kept me nice and drugged so I couldn't fight my way out. The few times I did manage to shrug off the haze and beat on the glass, they upped the dosage so I'd stay nice and tame."

"If you were underwater for two years, how did you ... how did you manage to sty alive and not, you know, _drown_?"

Nora was surprised to hear one of the men speak. The question had come from the smaller one, Vaughn. His expression definitely read intrigue, but Rhys' face was inexplicably difficult to read.

Before she had a chance to respond, Cait joyfully perked up. "It's 'cause she's a freak."

"Go fuck yourself, Cait," Nora stuck her tongue out.

"Been thar, done tha'."

"Wow, Cait." Piper's head shook with disapproval. "Wow. Everything you say is a vulgarity. I can't keep up with all the sexual in-your-endos."

Nora bit back a laugh. "It's overcompensating, Piper. She probably hasn't gotten any in ages." Cait may have been shorter than her, but it just made the Irish woman's slap to the back of her head that much harder. One of the guys behind her tittered a laugh through strangled tension - probably Rhys. Nora rubbed her wounded scalp and scoffed. "But she's kinda right. I'm a freak."

Vaughn again. "How are you a freak?"

"Hard to say, really. The docs and scientists at the Institute thought it had something to do with me being on ice while the whole world marinated in radiation for 200 years. My DNA was pure, unaltered. _They_ think there was a little something extra in it. My first exposure to major rads left me sick as a dog for a few days. But after the initial 'holy shit I'm irradiated' moment, it took bigger and bigger dosages to get me sick. My body was adapting to it, and my DNA kind of ... mutated. I got the ability to process oxygen out of water. So I'm basically impervious to drowning. Don't suck up rads through water, either. Only mutation I got, though. No adamantium armor or ability to fly." Without missing a beat, Nora quickly added goofily, "Still, it's _rad_ ical."

It was like one layer of fear lifted itself off of Rhys. Unable to resist, he pointed to her with a metal finger. "Nerd!"

"Why yes. Congratulations on finally noticing. I thought the heavily modified electric sword might have given me away." Seeing the CEO guy loosen up a little was refreshing. She stuck a tongue out and continued. "But yeah, I think that's why the Institute wanted to get their grubby little paws on em and mine in the first place - the whole DNA thing and ... you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Vaughn and Rhys exchanged awkward glances. Piper laughed nervously. "We, uh, _may_ have told them everything there is to know about you."

"Oh, sweet! Wait. Why?"

"We've all become local legends up top with all the bullshit we went through, Nora. Your story in particular is like a ballad."

Nora wasn't buying it completely. She cocked an eyebrow and eyed Piper suspiciously. "I see. So you've been pumping more news stories out about me, have you?"

"NO! No. Not at all." A very, very long pause and Nora's unconvinced stare caused the reporter to find something interesting on the ground to study. "Maybe."

Piper probably expected a scolding. She wasn't ready for the chuckle she received instead. Nora hummed contently. "Hmm, local legend? I can get used to that."

"Don't get ahead of yourself _too_ much, Miss Douchenstein."

"Listen, if I can use that story to line me up with free noodles, I'm totally okay with that." Thinking about food made her stomach rumble. **Loudly**. Everybody heard. "No more talking about grub until we get above ground, alright? That liquid diet they kept me on was bullshit."

"Yer th' only un' who _mentioned_ food, dumbass."

Nora sought retribution by resting her elbow atop Cait's head and leaning heavily on her as they walked. The Combat Zone vet thwarted this gesture with a flurry of face slaps until Nora surrendered with flapping hands and an, "Ohmigawd, okay! Nottheface!" Once she recollected her composition, the general resumed with, "I've _missed_ this petty brahmincrap. So where was I?"

"Laboratory, water tube, needles."

"Right! So they had me hooked up to IVs. And there was a larger needle stuck into my abdomen, connected by more tubing. I ... I don't know what the hell they were loading me up with. But that fucking thing hurt the most." There were times when she'd woken with a distended abdomen and general sickness. Then the next time she came to, the bloating would be gone. How could she explain something like that? "Occasionally I would hear garbled speech. Nothing distinguishable - you can't hear through water. Some Children of Atom would swing by, insert syringes into the IV line and extract blood from me. Dunno why they were collecting it. I felt like a test subject.

"After a while, another person started showing up. Tall, heavily clad in leather and fur. And he always wore a cowl to hide his face. But I recognized that jacket and I thought maybe, just maybe, I was hallucinating the whole thing."

Nora hesitated for a long while. When she spoke again, it drifted from the main subject and pressed into the future.

"The last time I woke up ... You're going to think I'm nuts, but I heard this little girl calling for me. And when I came to, there was nobody there. Nobody _anywhere_. The lab was empty. Nobody there to push drugs into my system ... so I took advantage of it. Ripped the needles out, broke the glass with the large bore asshole stuck in my abdomen. I crawled around for a while looking for my clothes and ... I started hearing shit. Voices."

Piper looked back. Rhys' pace dropped and Vaughn hung back to be next to him.

"It lead me to a relay room - like the one at the Institute. And the next thing I know I'm being teleported into Sanctuary Hills. I was happy with the sight until I realized it was abandoned. Not even a moment later, the whole place was leveled by some kind of explosion. I was surrounded by men in armor, nearly choked out, and stabbed through the chest with a goddamned spear thing. The rest is kind of a blur."

That was a blatant lie, but Nora was highly charismatic and well-made to hide things nobody needed to know about. She remembered everything going haywire, able to control her body but perceiving everything that moved as a threat until some entity wrapped her subconscious and willpower around its finger. Nora had become a lion in a colosseum, set upon the innocent masses for the amusement of her captors ... and she knew exactly why Rhys was terrified of her.

Because of everyone in her current company, Rhys was the only one to actively witnessed the carnage she expelled, been attacked by her, and _watched_ her transform back into her weakened human state. Piper and Cait may have been on the battlefield at the last moment, but there was no guarantee they had seen anything through the chaotic clamor.

But the reported was still hung up on something Nora said previously. "Who was the man? The one you recognized?"

Unease crept into her spine and rattled it. For the first time since she'd felt the chill of cold air against her dampened, naked body in the hidden laboratory, Nora was shivering. "The last time I fell unconscious at the lab ... the last time I saw anybody _there_ , it was just him. He'd stuck a needle in an IV line and plunged it right into his own body. I watched him **change**. He grew claws and teeth, became almost beast-like. And right there at the end when I was about to black out, he pulled off his cowl and I got a good look at Maxson's stupid, scarred face."

The resulting reactions were exactly what Nora thought they were going to be. Cait erupted into her traditional malarky of curses. Piper was heavily in doubt, disbelieving and shoveling out conspiracies by the boat load.

"He's dead," was her consistent statement. "He's _been_ dead."

"Or so we wished." Nora held out a hand, counting off on each finger as she aired out her own theories. "So from what I've seen and heard thus far ... " Finger one: "The Children of Atom have grown totally hostile towards the whole Commonwealth." Finger two: "They are being led by Arthur Maxson." Finger three: "Caesar's Legion is here, for whatever reason, from the west." Finger four: "They've taken control of the Children of Atom by way of manipulation and fear of death, killing whoever doesn't follow their cause."

"Which would explain the crucifixions we saw on the way into the Glowing Sea ... ," Piper said under her breath.

It grabbed Nora's attention and held it firm. "Excuse me?"

"It's, uhm ... a lengthy explanation."

Nora held out an arm and gestured for her to go on ahead. The group rounded a bend in the cave system. It banked to the left, following the stream which was becoming gradually more turbulent.

"A couple of things happened when you left. The Railroad HQ at the Old North Church got overrun by feral ghouls. Tinker Tom got killed. Desdemona set up shop at Vault 81 and that's become their hub of operations. And _then_ we found some aliens."

"Aliens?"

Piper jerked her thumb backwards. Vaughn jumped up, waving frantically. "Oh, she's talking about us because we aren't from this planet!" Rhys proceeded to drag his hand down his own face.

Nora was more than skeptical. "Bullshit," she laughed.

"Dead ass serious," Piper informed her sternly.

"They're _human_ ... ish." Her good eye drifted to Rhys' metal parts. She cackled when he flipped her the bird.

He used that very same hand to brush back his mousy brown hair. "She's, ah ... she's right, though."

"All the way from Eden-1," Vaughn was telling her far-too excitedly. The duo came closer to the main crew, drawn in by their involvement in the ongoing conversation. "Different timeline, different dimension, and about 700 years in the future."

Every word she spoke was dripping with sarcasm. "So you're _time-traveling_ aliens."

"I'm sensing a bit of scrutiny here," Rhys said.

"Naw, really? Next you'll be telling me you're part robot."

"But I a - " The businessman stopped and huffed, but he looked somewhere between indignation and amusement.

"I'll humor you and accept for now that you are, in fact, aliens from another realm," the Minutemen general told them both with a thumbs up.

Vaughn was exceptionally surprised. "You people believe us way too easily. Doesn't it freak you out knowing there's life on other planets out there?"

"I'm guessing nobody ever told you about the alien spacecraft hovering outside of our atmosphere back before the bombs dropped?"

The two men shook their heads.

"Or t'at whole fray down in th' D.C. ruins where a buncha idjits got abducted an' brought to a mothership. Zeta or some shite like t'at."

Vaughn shook his head 'no', but Rhys' mouth formed into an 'o'. "Oh, OH! Wait, I did hear about that actually. It was in the Survival Guide. They were Greys."

"Yeah well, it's a lot easier for us to accept the impossible when the impossible happens every single day," spoke the general nonchalantly. "Centuries ago, nobody believed we were gonna be nuked into oblivion. BAM! Look what's happened? Better to just acknowledge that anything can happen at this point."

"Right, so this group came along," Piper interrupted. "Long story short ... MacCready and his girlfriend found Dogmeat - she's fine, by the way - and your Pip-Boy. There was a hidden encryption on it. Nick cracked the code but, uh, it displayed a message from the Children of Atom and was apparently rigged to trigger both a leak from Vault 81's reactor and a nuclear bomb to be detonated from the Chestnut Hillock Reservoir. Shorty here - "

"Vaughn."

" - showed up in the nick of time to save a bunch of people. Deacon warned the neighboring settlements. We lucked out. A lot of people evacuated to safety. Then Danse and the remaining Brotherhood members swooped in to relay us to the Institute. He got some of his men to track the signal sent from your Pip-Boy, found it went to some place in the Glowing Sea that turned out to be a trap meant to kill us off. That's where we found your sword."

"N' the' ground was littered wit' crosses. Bodies tacked up on all of 'em," Cait finished. "Lot o' 'em wore Atom rags. Some raiders, too. Ain't sad to see 'em go, but it's gotta 'ave sucked for 'em at th' end."

Ire rose from the depths of her bowels. It churned in the back of her throat, burning on both the way up and down. Nora touched the bandage over her would-be eye while the other glassed over. There went her pulse again, bouncing in leaps and bounds. Piper placed a hand in the small of her back, not for the first time that day.

"Nora? You good?"

"Not so much, no." She took a few more steps before the urge to vomit became too strong - not so powerful enough that she had no choice but to expel it, but harsh enough to force the general to bend over with her hands on her knees, breathing in deep gulps of air. " _Hooooooo_ , that's a panic attack and a half." She thought of Deacon - of Sanctuary Hills - of Boston becoming a flat plain.

"What? What's up?"

"Realizing we've got the biggest of egotistical, genocidal megalomaniacs leading a bunch more psychopaths."

There was more to it than that. Had to be. What happened to her in Sanctuary Hills wasn't natural. She knew it, they knew it ... but for her sanity, Piper and Cait had not brought the transformation up. To their credit neither did Rhys or Vaughn. And Nora was glad they didn't.

"This is twice I've woken up to some crazy scenario where we're staring down the edge of all-out annihilation. Whoever comes up with these trends needs to be shot in the foot."

* * *

Through their dialogue, Rhys confirmed several things.

That the girl who had spoken to he and Fiona before they were unceremoniously dumped into the post-fallout world ... the same one who was seen in the (un)flesh by Vaughn, Sasha, Zer0, Athena, and Janey ... was indefinitely connected to Nora, who admitted to hearing the same voice. _Nay_ , who had admitted to the voice calling for _her_.

The same voice of the same girl that begged for help in finding her mother - her 'mama'.

Whatever powers Nora wielded in that metamorphosis she'd undertaken earlier ... they were the same ones that thrust Sasha into Diamond City: an uncanny ability to manipulate time and space. And then Maya - Maya, prior to having her eyes gouged out and her brain pierced - commented how the whole ordeal was similar to stories she'd heard about pregnant woman who contained Sirens in their wombs, because something similar had happened to Handsome Jack's first wife.

Nora was their 'missing link': the reason they were here in the first place. And the woman had absolutely no idea ...

Now there was no Maya to turn to unless her corpse could spin stories (the mental vision of her gore-marked carcass still turned Rhys' blood to ice). No Lilith, captured by the Legion and that figure in black who appeared and vanished on a whim. No Zer0 or Brick or Mordecai, gone without a trace with a banshee scream that probably sent them hurtling to another world, considering the unborn Siren child's reputation.

But ... why?

How did a child manifest to them when it had not yet been _born_? How did Handsome Jack fit into this? If the drive containing him was here on Earth, that meant Yvette was also here. But how did she manage interdimensional travel? Hyperion technology was extremely advanced ... but there was nothing that could transcend the boundaries of time, bend the restrictions of reality, circumvent an event horizon to go where no man has gone before.

He really, really wanted to tell somebody about this just to rant and rave and get it all out, but even Vaughn knew only so much. He had been unconscious when Maya came to their aid. Confiding in him now while Nora was in close-quarters was ill-advised.

Sasha would know what to do. No ... no, she wouldn't, but he _really_ , _really_ wished she was here. The thought of her still being up here while things were going insane made his stomach churn. Puke threatened his throat again and Rhys fought harder than before to keep it in his gut and off the ground.

They needed to get out. Backtrack to Sanctuary Hills. Find Sasha and Fiona, safe and sound, then get to the Institute and relay what happened to Athena. The gladiator might have understanding of their situation. After all, hadn't she been there when Jack first rose to power?

 _Was Jack the voice she'd heard?_ That was a dumb question. Of course it was - the A.I. took over her body during that combat scenario. Wandering eyes found Nora's back. _Is he still in there?_

He hung back as they moved through the cave system. Nora, Piper, and Cait were spending their time catching up with one another - jesting and mocking and, sometimes, playfully smacking. It reminded him far too much of he, Vaughn, and Yvette in their glory days at college. Rhys' chest pinged painfully.

Vaughn was ... in no mood to talk. They'd been walking for quite some time. An hour ago, he was happy to pitch in his feedback on the terminology they were grafted with: 'aliens'. Now he was quiet. His body swayed occasionally. Every now and then he would reach up to wipe sweat from his brow. It was an action that was uncharacteristically abnormal considering the inherent chill existing in the caverns and his lack of a shirt.

Rhys picked up the pace until he was side-by-side with him. "Hey Vaughn?" he asked, voice just above a whisper. "Are you feeling okay, bro?"

The accountant-turned-bandit king waved his friend off flippantly. "A little queasy. Sickly. Think I'm just hungry." Rhys thought he looked pale in the torch light, but dismissed it as his eyes' poor ability to adjust to their darker surroundings.

One of the girls cursed loudly: Cait, considering the uniquely colorful insults. "Well this is 'bout as fuckin' useless as tits on a bull."

Nora stopped to examine while Piper illuminated their passage with several fly-bys of her torch. "Well," she uttered with an air of frustration mated with defeat, "this makes things interesting."

Rhys expected monsters to be crouched ahead, eager for a snack consisting of live human flesh with a side of leather and bone. What he saw as he and Vaughn crept closer to their womanly counterparts offered him about the same sinking feeling. "Oh ... "

That stream they were following definitely sped its flow. Wherever it emptied, they were getting close - they could hear the definitive roar of a waterfall somewhere ahead, dim but true. But before it got to the falls, the river decided to pass underneath a low hanging wall of stone that expanded across their entire path, effectively blocking what they had all been hoping was a straight shot to freedom.

Mother nature was willing to provide, however. On either side of them were multiple holes in the cavern walls: side routes. Crossing the high-speed waters to get to the ones on the right was a definite no go, which left three options wide open to their left.

"So we just go through each one until we find a way around, right?" Rhys asked hopefully. "And **not** split up?"

"I vote on the not splitting up part," Vaughn voted feebly. He appeared to shrink, sagging into himself. Wary concern tickled the Atlas CEO's synapses.

Nora was nodding decisively. "That makes three of us. And yeah, that would be a _great_ idea, except we have one _eensy weensy_ problem."

"Goddamn _Mirelurks_ ," Cait spat, the word coming out envenomated.

Rhys struggled with the term. "Mirelurks?"

Piper cast her wooden lamp over something large, white, and glossy. From his standpoint, Rhys thought it was a segment of a porcelain plate ... until the reporter spread her glowing torch to uncover a dozen more of the shards. There were bigger pieces, more intact and resembling very large portions of very large eggs ...

"Mirelurks," explained Piper, "are giant horseshoe crabs mutated by radiation. You remember when that bomb went off at the reservoir? You saw them scuttling out of the water just as we were evacuating. These are their eggs. They love damp places. Beaches. Waterfronts. Swamps ... Underground caverns filled with lakes ... "

"Thar might be a queen 'ere if'n there're eggs," Cait grumbled, rubbing the pointed edges of the rebar on her power fist.

"I dunno. These look old." Nora wandered a little further down. She found and rolled a whole egg into sight. It was green with splotches of black. Holding her nose, the general kicked it into the river. The shell squelched under her boot and exploded a foot away from the bank's edge.

A foul odor permeated their locale and whatever vomit Rhys had been holding back before could no longer be contained. " _Huaaaagh_!"

Nora laughed. "Look who's got a weak stomach!"

Cait surprised them all by joining in the pukefest. Piper held her stomach and groaned.

"So much hate," grunted the reporter, and exploded partially digested foodstuffs..

The general's facial contortion was one of great humor and horrid disgust. She gesticulated wildly to Vaughn, as green as his friend was moments prior if not _greener_. "I think we won this contest, mate. You and I? We're the only ones still standing with full stom ... achs ... "

Nope. Vaughn was down for the count too. Literally. He'd fallen flat on his face. The torch tumbled from his loosened grip, rolling to its extinguishment in the white waters awaiting below the rock outcropping. The current swept it up and awau beneath the stone shelf.

Merriment devolved into extreme disconcertion. "Oh ... that's not right ... " She skipped over the grungy piles of puke, carefully leaning by the shorter, (insanely) buff short man's side.

Rhys was the first to finish his volcanic eruption. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve (because really, what other option was there?), he united beside Nora at Vaughn's side and gave his friend a frantic shake of the shoulder. "Vaughn? Vaughn?!"

Together - with some difficulty on Rhy's behalf courtesy of his malfunctioning mechanical limb - they rolled him onto his back. Nora pressed her naked wrist against the half-nude man's sweaty forehead. She grimaced at the heat. "Fever."

The CEO had gone white. "What's that mean?"

Dainty fingers traced to Vaughn's bandage. She didn't even need to pull it away to sense the blistering furnace beneath the gauze. "His damn wound's infected."

"But Curie was _methodical_ about cleaning it - "

"It's got nothing to do with Curie. Think about Lanius' sword. Do you think he ever really _cleans_ it?" Vaughn's stitches were tight against the swelling. Pustules hadn't quite formed yet, but it would only be a matter of time before they began to emerge. "He needs penicillin and some extensive cleansing ... Change of stitches, too ... "

Vaughn groaned, his eyes fluttering as he dwelled back into the land of the living. Parched lips smacked together dryly. "Water ... "

"Here." Rhys had no idea how Piper managed to scoop some of the underground river water up without tumbling in, but she held her cupped hands to Vaughn's mouth and tipped it so he could drink what didn't slip between her tightened fingers. It wasn't purified, contaminated with slight radiation (+1 according to Rhys' cybernetic implant), but it satisfied Vaughn and he drifted off into a quiet slumber.

She prodded an unwilling Rhys away from his companion's side, thrusting her torch into Nora's free hand. "All th' more reason fer us to get the fuck out?" The Boston reporter had no problem cradling the unconscious male in her arms. "Knees to chest, bitches."

Atlas felt stunned beyond repair. He recoiled upon contact, but Nora didn't relent when she hoisted him up by the arm. "Weapons out," she commanded with such authority that Rhys immediately bore his stun baton, all but setting off the electricity. "Three doors, and only one of them leads to where we wanna go. We'll comb through them quick. Don't dawdle unless you see something dangerous or useful, but don't go looking for a fight unless we've got no way around it. Let's _move_."

Nora could go from friendly to scary intimidating really quick - a characteristic, Rhys thought with wry amusement, that was atypical of most women.

* * *

Contestant number one was a bust. The tunnel extended about twenty feet into absolute darkness and led them right into a dead end.

Contestant number two was ... less so. It was considerably deeper. They'd taken only five steps in and were struck by such an overpowering wave of rotting-fish-smell that they were forced to retreat. The scrunching of Nora's face gave her the appearance of a pale Shar-Pei.

"I'll bet you," she grumbled nasally while pinching tight her nostrils, "that's where our Mirelurk buddies are waiting."

"I'm allergic to shellfish," Piper managed to spit out before gagging.

Vaughn was either partially conscious or his intuition was strong enough to warn him of the impending human waterfall. He vaulted out of her arms just as the reporter sprayed the cave floor, thereby inciting another round of the Exorcist while Nora guffawed at their misery.

Cait's last strands of frothy sputum were punctuated by hisses, grunts, and, "Lez leave t'at' option 'til we see ... th' last tunnel, yea?"

It was perhaps better for their fading morale to take a sneak peak at the last entryway in the cave, anyhow. While a broken human skeleton with tattered settler clothes was not exactly a happy find, what it _meant_ was at least partially exhilarating.

"So that must mean there's an entrance to the cave somewhere, right?" Vaughn wheezed. He'd managed to stay awake, but required somebody to lean on. Piper was happy to take up the mantle, reassuring a worried Rhys that he didn't have to be the only one overseeing his friend.

Cait prodded the off-white bones with her foot. The left arm detached a little too easily. Bleached meat with the texture and frangibility of cheesecloth hung in places from the corpse. "Been down 'ere fer maybe a year?"

"I don't see a weapon," Nora told them, scouring the earth on either side of the decrepit cryptkeeper.

A rummaging noise made the general turn. Rhys was digging through a knapsack on the opposite wall. He turned out nothing but empty cans and boxes of preserved food. "There's bullets? But no food."

"Somebody's hungry."

His lips tugged into a forced smile. "Not _that_ hungry."

"He probably starved to death," Piper stated, watching an empty potato crisp tin roll past her. "Got chased here and maybe tried to hold out long enough. I don't see any claw marks or bites on his bones."

Cait pushed Rhys aside, taking over the scavenging with furious motions. The cybernetically-imbued man backed away meekly, muttering, "You don't have to be like _that_ ... ," and Nora frowned. The Irish fighter had never been much of a people person. Some mannerisms simply couldn't be killed off.

"What ammunition you got?"

"Shotgun shells n' flamer fuel. Ain't nuthin' else."

"Damn it. I'm about out of bullets."

Nora's head shook. "You know the drill."

"Hoardin' away, chief." Cait chunked any remaining empty containers, leaving only the ammo as she holstered the bag.

Rhys' looked on quizzically. "Why? You clearly don't have any of those kinds of weapons. Why heft around something useless?"

"Ya ain't got much o' a brain cell, d'ya robo-boy?" snapped the ex-raider. The former Hyperion bristled and they glared lightning bolts at each other, Rhys' mouth opening -

"Don't be a bitch, Cait." Nora stepped in before he could say something he'd definitely regret. The red-haired hothead could take Nora's criticism - they'd traveled together long enough to not be offended by each other's curt comments - but getting sass from a newbie would end with him being plastered on the wall. "You try to bite his head off, you're liable to get an extra dose of iron."

It was meant as a joke. Only Piper smirked. Rhys looked terrified and Cait was unappeased. Vaughn was too ill to feel any way about anything.

Resting her hands on her hips, the general sighed. "Tough crowd." She unfurled a gloved finger towards the bag. "Caps and ammunition make the world go 'round. Depending on how badly we're hurting for supplies and how close we are to a settlement, we can disperse the ammo amongst civs so they can better defend themselves, or trade with the right person for goods. The same goes for weapons and armor we'll never use."

"And pre-war tech," added Piper.

Nora shot her daggers. "They hell you say? Tech's way too useful. You can disassemble it and make new stuff and - and - what?" When the reporter did nothing but grin and laugh, the long-coat clad woman snorted affrontedly and brushed past her out of the tunnel with Cait at her heels.

Only when she was out of sight did Piper whisper in an aside to Rhys, "She has a tech hoarding problem."

Clearly they were not out of earshot. "I do not!"

" _The hell_ you don't. You know she spent a whole week tracing her steps from Sanctuary to the light house looking for a motherboard Deacon dropped? Then there was the time she'd gotten ahold Kellogg's cybernetic implant." She tapped at her temple. "He had it in his _brain_. She was gone for three days tinkering with that thing. Once she, you know, cleaned it off."

Rhys traced a finger around his head port, swallowing audibly. Vaughn's head drooped, his blossoming grimace airing sympathy to his mental pain. "Bruh ... "

"Oh don't worry. She won't do that to _you_." Steering Vaughn's frail body to follow the trail of her leader, Piper casually continued with, "Just don't piss her off."

He was going to remember that.

Staring down the second nature-made burrow filled the lot of them with dread. Torch in hand, Nora lead the way. The deeper they got, the harder it was to take in a full breath without feeling some sort of ill hamster-wheel in their bellies. It was also getting narrower, though they never took note of how much clearance was diminishing until they were practically crawling, dampened rock soaking through the knees of their pants.

A round opening became outlined by their remaining torches the closer they got. The general's last eye blinked against the glare of her flickering flame. "So there's a really small hole ahead of us ... Might be a tight squeeze."

"Tighter than Danse's ass." Chuckles all around - minus Rhys and Vaughn, who'd never really met the Paladin/Elder in person. "But I suppose you like it like that, huh Blue?"

The silver-haired widow's face reddened. "Oh. My. God. Shut up."

"You okay there? Look like you burst a vessel - " A pebble went soaring through their cramped quarters and beaned her between the eyes.

"I'll kill you, woman. Hard enough to concentrate with this ... nasty ass ... _stench_."

"Do you really think," Vaughn managed between deep-breaths and nose-holding, leaning his unhurt shoulder into the wall a little more heavily than he should have been, "there's those - what were they, _Mirelurks_? - up ahead?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Er ... more than likely? Mires like to roost in one nest for a long, long period of time. Don't typically move unless they need to. But queens'll migrate when their primary suitors die. They've got this nasty tendency to eat their mates. Her brood doesn't typically follow. So yeah ... But maybe we lucked out and they ran out of food and died off like that poor sap back there. But be ready. I'd say there's a good chance we'll bump into one or two. Or more." She continued to inch forward. The little crawlspace was only a few feet away now.

But Rhys was able to make only a little headway when he bumped into something soft and pliable. It jumped and squeaked. The CEO was just able to make out the rotund shape of Cait's ass as a foot came screaming at his face.

_Cruuuuuuunch!_

"EEEYAAAOW!" bleated the programmer, propelled backwards by the force of the aerial stomp. With hands too occupied with tending to his nose, he couldn't stop himself from tumbling into first Vaughn, then Piper - who in turn dropped the second torch to be lost to the underground. It clattered and rolled along the rocky incline until it, too, was felled by the subterranean river. "My face - why is it always the _face_?!"

"You bumped me **arse** , ya dick shite!" The brilliant shade of crimson exploding from her cheeks would have been enough to illuminate the cave's entirety and then some. She wheeled on her knees, emerald eyes flaring with intense, irrational rage. "I oughta beat yer ass senseless ya metal whelp!"

"Cait ... ," Piper tried.

"You stopped _dead_! I couldn't - "

Nora's hand found Cait's shoulder. The touch caused an intense trigger-finger reaction, with the Irish fighter coiling like some enraged pit viper an striking out with her fists as though they were fangs. The general recoiled, moving her head in time to feel the curled digits whiz past and nip her ear lobe. Reflexively Nora grabbed for her ankle and, in one swift motion, knocked her off-balance by yanking her forward, leaning into the woman's back with her elbow so that she was pinned, chest-first, into the rocks. Cait thrashed beneath her.

"Th' fuck _**off**_!"

"What the _hell_ 's gotten into you?"

With the woman writhing about the way she was, frantic and terrified and angry, Nora was going to remain without an answer until Cait calmed down. Behind her, Rhys' hands were shaking. He guarded his nose with grimaces until Piper forcefully pried his fingers away.

"Is it broken?" he sputtered, brows knitting together. "It's broken, isn't it? I know it is."

Piper squeezed the bridge of his nose gently. When it didn't crack and Rhys didn't scream, she retracted with a laugh. "It's not. She just dinged the cartilage. But by god, I think you'll live."

"That crazy - what the hell - why did that _psycho_ \- !"

Vaughn planted his hand against Rhys' mouth. "Shut up, man! You really want her to turn loose on you or something?"

"Tip-top advice. Capital!" Nora exclaimed with a British accent. In all seriousness, she added, "Really, though. You know she was a raider once? Don't get her going - you'll never hear the end of it _aaaaaaaaaaaand_ you'll probably have more broken bones than good ones."

"How are you even holding her down?" asked the bandit king. Despite falling out earlier, he appeared coherent for the time being. Still sweating and still on the pale side, though, and he'd still probably hurl if he stopped covering his nose. "She's, like ... "

"Cait might've been a cage fighter at the Combat Zone, but I wiped _out_ the Combat Zone. So ... bitch please."

Dual-colored orbs widened with freshly-painted terror. Rhys backed away until Vaughn's firm back blocked his escape. "You're all _insane_."

"Hey, it's not like that," Nora stated defensively. "I was going in there to resupply. I didn't ask for the whole damn _building_ to go gunning for me the second I opened the _door_."

"So you just **killed them all**?" He was simultaneously baffled and horrified. "All those people?"

Rhys was unnerved by how nonplussed she looked. " _People_ is going a bit far. You haven't bumped into raiders yet, have you?" The expression he shot Cait's (slowly calming) form answered the question for him. "Those chem-hopped maniacs'll kidnap good people, raze whole settlements ... rape, murder, torture, _cannibalism_ , it doesn't matter. The only time you'll be able to reason wth 'em is when you put a hole in their heads."

Cait wriggled. "Let me up," she pleaded in a level voice.

"Are you _calm_ now?" The vet grunted. Nora's shoulders shrugged. "Good enough. You owe MetalMan an apology, girlie."

She withdrew her elbow so that Cait could right herself by climbing back onto her knees, brushing off flecks of wet dirt. Lips thin and eyes narrowed, one might think that she'd lost her dignity. Rather than voice remorse for her poor decision, Cait's fierce green eyes bore into him so deeply that Rhys shrunk in on himself.

"So what was that all about?" Vaughn pressed uneasily. "Why the psycho break?"

"It's t'is place ... "

"Could you be more elaborate?" Nora queried, cautiously resting her palm on Cait's shoulder again and tensing in preparation for another attempted punch to the face. When the brawler indicated the narrowing cave with a grim terseness to her dirties features, Nora's eye softened. "Oh. _Right_."

"I dun' like feelin' closed in," she explained while rubbing her power fist with a violent longing. "Drives me nuts, gets me angry."

"I forgot how claustrophobic you were ... " The silver-haired woman glanced at the minuscule entrance awaiting them. It would be tight, so much more cramped than they were right now, but not a single one of them wouldn't be able to fit. Cait was gonna hate it, but the longer she stayed in here the more irritated she was going to get and Nora didn't want to see what happened the next time her tolerance snapped. She removed the knapsack from Cait's shoulder and pushed her to the hole. "You're first, then."

"I - what?"

"The sooner you go through, the better you'll feel, right?" Nora traded her the torch, tossing in a reassuring smile for the sake of quelling the woman's shivering figure. "Perform your duty, squire."

"Kiss me arse, queen bee."

"Present it."

Cait chortled but at least the jest put her at relatively enough ease to grant her a less tense passage. Armed with nothing but the weapon encircling her fist and the light of her giant wooden candle, she slunk low to the rock floor and began her painstaking descent into darkness. At three feet in she was forced to crawl along on her belly with her limbs splayed out to either side. Fifteen feet later, she rounded a bend and her glowing luminescence vanished beyond it.

Nora cast a sheepish smile Rhys' way. "Sorry about the nose."

"How did you two wind up _working_ together without _killing_ each other?"

"There were definitely a lot of fights," laughed the general.

"MacCready and her went at it a lot," Piper pitched in, her insightful gaze turning inwards fondly. "But that was nothing compared to the all-out smack-downs she had with Strong twice a week - they'd piss each other off _that badly_."

Rhys cocked a brow. "Who'd win?"

"Usually it was a draw. At least twice Cait knocked Strong on his ass."

Nora stuck her head into the puny opening. "Vaughn, you think you'll be able to crawl through this?"

Unable to contain it, Rhys tittered, "He's small enough." He yipped when the bandit king prodded him in the ribs.

Beaming, Vaughn's rolling eyes contorted into true contemplation as he responded with, "I ... I think I'll be okay."

"Think you might pass out again?" Piper's worried gaze was strangely warming, her tone truly apprehensive. The buff, vertically-challenged male flushed noticeably, the rosy hue obnoxiously blatant on his cheekbones. Even as he shook his head in reassurance, the reporter's eyes did not lose their perturbance. "I'll climb in behind you. In case you _do_ conk out, Nora can pull you and I can push."

"I, um ... Thanks, Piper."

A series of curses reverberated back to them through the tiny tunnel, followed by several _thunk_ s and _BAM_ s. Nora practically dove into the cavity with her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Cait?!"

"I got it!" _SMASH! Crash! Screeeeeeee!_ "Just ... gimme ... a second!"

A second felt like way too long. Nora waited exactly five before clambering in after her voice. She was immediately greeted with a very large, very _gnarly_ disassembled crab claw that was thrown into the crevice so hard that it bounced at the bend and stopped just inches from her nose. "Son of a ... "

"Found the Lurks!" jeered the cage fighter. What unexcelled fury controlled her vocals earlier faded into a positively excited blossoming with adrenaline. "Two softshells an' a razorclaw. Think t'at's it, though. Come on through, ya gotta see this shite! It's pretty as fuck!"

Nora plucked the claw out. It was heavier than it looked and easily the length of her entire forearm. She waved it for Rhys and Vaughn to see, both virgins to the Mirelurk experience. The colossally impressed apprehension triggered in their response was worth every dime.

"If you guys behave," she teased, "we'll be having crab legs for dinner."

She was beginning to have way too much fun making Rhys retch.

* * *

'Pretty as fuck' might not have been the way Rhys was willing describe it, but there was a certain breathtaking awe to be had at what he witnessed the moment he dropped from the 'rabbit hole'. It struck him with the same invigorating consolation as the dual waterfalls' cool mist.

From where they emerged was a rock shelf extending approximately twenty feet out, presumably thick enough to hold the lot of them. The underground river they'd been following had indeed continued its pathway beyond the stone wall, jettisoning along its deepened bed until drawn to the shelf's end. There it joined a second, larger waterfall ... one that came from _above_ , roaring far louder than whatever hiss the smaller stream conjured up. Such a combination of torrential spray filled the crevasse with a thick accumulation of moon-chilled droplets.

Rhys dreaded the idea of falling to whatever new depths awaited them ahead, but a glimmer of hope filled the empty void conjured by loss. That massive waterfall looming ominously/beautifully aloft was not the only thing visible from the topside - in fact, it only took up about a quarter of the earth's gratuitous opening. For the remainder there were rocks and dirt ... and stars ... and moonlight ... and a crisp, oh so wonderful _breeze_.

They were maybe underground for two hours, tops. But the shift from their previously dank, dark grotto to **this** was a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Rhys allowed himself a deep breath, feeling the edginess of the day relieve itself from his shoulders.

"You weren't lying, Cait," Nora breathed after pulling Vaughn from the hole with Piper at his legs. The half-naked accountant was steadied with great difficulty, more green now than he was pale. 'This is - "

" - goddamn gorgeous," finished Rhys. Nora shot him a smirk, raising her brow.

"You get out of my head."

He returned the expression with a smug smile of his own. Sasha would _love_ this sight ... and immediately Rhys wondered about her wellbeing. His dread came flooding back with a vengeance.

Vaughn managed a giggle, stifled the moment he had to stem an urge to throw up. Lowering his eyes to quell the dancing his stomach performed at the sight of moving water, his formerly bespectacled eyes discovered three abnormal corpses decorating the rocky crag. He pointed a bony finger at them, stuttering, "A-are those ... are those the Mirelurks?"

The creatures were easily the size of full-grown men. Armed with terrifying claws, ten walking legs and shells hard enough to protect them from most ballistics, it was easy to distinguish the reasoning for them being 'lurkers' considering how well they blended in with their surroundings. Rhys almost hadn't noticed them until Vaughn pointed them out.

"Yep." Cait jabbed her heel into the biggest. Its claws were tipped with a finer edge - sharper, more lethal - and it was in possession of a spiked shell. _Probably the razorclaw,_ he thought with a gulp. The cage fighter rolled the monster onto its back and they were able to get a full look at its face. Evolution tucked their most vulnerable bits beneath a helmet of chitin and _man_ were those eyes intimidating. Its mouth was a vertical slit surrounded by small chelicerae. As far as Rhys could see, there were no teeth. "Tough little bastards. Hard to shoot 'em good with a gun 'cause they keep movin'. Better ta go in with a blunt or edged weapon, get in up close n' personal an' nab 'em in th' face."

Nora approached the razorclaw, stripping away whatever dignity it had in dying by shoving the torch's butt into its listless maw. Rhys and Vaughn made sickly noises and she laughed at their repulsion. "What? It can hold the torch for us now. I can't scale a wall with my hands occupied."

"About that ... " Piper gazed upwards. "How do we get up there?"

Herein was the problem with waterfall mist. It drenched both the end of the rocky shelf and the walls, effectively making both surfaces slippery.

Cait was way ahead of them. She nodded to her right, where part of their perchpoint was just beginning to come away from the wall. "That skeleton back thar? Found his buddy."

The thoroughly decomposed corpse was wedged in between both surfaces by his equipment. Unlike his counterpart, this man had been more prepared for both ascending and descending, judging from the Class III harness strung about his lanky bones. Lashed to the d-ring on his front was a carabiner. The rope tethered to it dangled out of sight into the chasm below. A single sharp object lay in front of the man's outstretched phalanges. At closer inspection, Rhys found it was not actually a weapon, but a mountaineering axe - rusted, but still viable for their needs.

"He definitely died fighting," Piper muttered. They all noticed the deep grooves embedded into his mold-covered bones. Something with very large claws got ahold of him long ago ...

Nora made for it slowly with Cait keeping her at arm's length, gripping a handful of her black-and-silver jacket. The general slid a few times before finally grabbing hold of the harness' shoulder straps. She gave the corpse several firm yanks. Only when its pelvis rubbed so hard against the jagged stone surrounding it that it came loose with everything below the waist was she able to pull the skeleton over the edge. Careful to snatch the axe as Cait guided her backwards, they both reeled the rope in ... and Nora's face faltered with each foot they gathered.

"It's a bungee cord," she complained, giving a length of it a good stretch to ensure its elasticity still remained. "Who the hell climbs with bungee cord?"

"Resources run out," shrugged Cait. "Who makes mines with bottlecaps n' lunch boxes?"

"Fair point ... " Her lonely eye narrowed. "Did you get a good look over the edge? Don't fall in."

"Yeah, no shit."

"No I mean ... there's more Mirelurks down there. It's an active nest. Throbbing clutches and everything."

Cait and Piper both dissolved into curses. Rhys shuddered. "They can't climb up, can they?" Vaughn fearfully asked. He was awash with relief when Nora shook her head.

"Their legs aren't made for it like insects." Nora clearly had no problem with taking up the front lines or initiating action. Checking to make sure her sword was still in place, she coiled the bungee cord around her torso and gave a few practice swings with the axe. "So, game plan ... I'm going to climb up there, tie the cord off to something. You guys follow up. Strap Vaughn into the harness ... " She eyed him worriedly as though expecting him to be offended. "Not that I don't trust you but - "

"I know," Vaughn's gaspy response rekindled everybody's anxiety towards him. "In case I pass out."

"Yeah and ... " One teal orb landed on Rhys. It inspected his metallic hand with the same scrutiny. "About that."

He retracted it, a familiar chill encasing his heart. "What about it?"

"It's kind of ... busted? Are you going to be able to climb?"

He hadn't thought about that and while Rhys seriously doubted his own abilities in general when it came to heights, he managed a ghostly nod. Nora's twisted lips signaled her disbelief, but she shrugged. She slung the axe tip into rock, scaling the wall like some honed professional despite her abdominal stitches and completely unbothered by the added weight of the knapsack. Clearly Nora was unwilling to remain in this cavern for any longer than absolutely necessary. Rhys couldn't blame her. He wanted to get back to Sanctuary Hills post-haste to find the girls, ensure their safety ...

Rhys barely had a chance to blink and Nora was over the edge. She vanished from sight, the bungee cord's movement being the only indicator that she was roaming from the pitfall. In the meantime, Cait and Piper were working the harness around Vaughn, who'd slumped against the wall in strained wheezes. The CEO could do little more than stand around with his thumb up his bit, shuffling his restlessness from side to side.

A moment later, Nora was back to the drop. She was using Vaughn's weight to stretch the rope while simultaneously pulling up slack until the cord was completely taut. "First up?" she called.

Piper raised her hand. She clapped her hand against Rhys shoulder while passing. "You next, alright? Cait's gonna lead Vaughn up."

Similarly to Nora, Piper had no qualms about climbing. _How many times did they have to do something like this?_ Rhys wondered, throat knotting as the cord shifted under the reporter's ascension, dangling her haphazardly over the shaft where the waterfalls were swallowed. _How many improvised exits? How many close calls?_

Piper took Nora's place as she angled over the cliff, repositioning the cord and putting tension on it again. Rhys was suddenly acutely aware of how damp the rocks were ... how dangerous the fall would be ... how _unrealistic_ but entirely _real_ everything was becoming. This was no different from landing on Pandora after hearing nothing but tall-tales, only to entertain the full gravity of how terribly true those stories actually were when overtaken by psychos and rained upon by bullets. A cold sweat coated his forehead. His heart threatened to shatter his ribs and break free.

Rhys only realized he was panting when Piper assured him that everything would be fine, to, "Take a deep breath. We're not going to let you fall."

 _"_ _**Breath** _ _, Rhys. I won't let you fall, remember?"_

 _**Damn** _ _it, Sasha. Why can't you be here right now?_

 _Because she's in the middle of Sanctuary Hills probably getting chewed on,_ another part of his brain scolded. Ice formed crystals in his veins. _Do you want to keep hesitating? Because it's not helping_ _ **her**_ _right now. Sasha wouldn't hesitate._

Neither were Piper, or Nora, or Cait ... or even Vaughn (though he was semi-conscious at this point, so that probably didn't count). Rhys mentally kicked himself, grabbed the cord, and held on for dear life. He wasn't going to get far in life if he kept getting scared.

_Be like you were when Vallory popped her ugly head into the scene a second time. Be that sarcastic, foolishly confident asshole. Yeah. That's right. This is nothing._

Confidence was like snow. It melted really, really quickly in the presence of heat. And when Rhys' feet were off the ground and the cord groaned with his added weight, he was slung out over the abyss while screaming his head off.

"Focus, Rhys!"

"What's wrong?"

"He's just freaking out."

All his high-pitched, strangled shrieks were attracting the bad kind of attention. Through the thickened fog of water-heavy air, Rhys could see a flurry of activity where the waterfalls met in a massive pool. Shadowed bodies. _Dozens_ of shadowed bodies. _**Hundreds**_ , even. All Mirelurks of different shapes and sizes. Eggs he couldn't discern were splitting open, birthing hatchlings as big as cats that scurried in all directions. The water was positively _rippling_ with life.

"Ohhhhhhh," he moaned, palms becoming so wet with perspiration that he was actually beginning to slip down. It was either to 'nut up and shut up' or fall right down there, get ripped into a million pieces of crab meal. No Atlas. No ice cream. No Sasha.

"Don't look down there, Rhys! Look at me!" Piper demanded. He didn't comply, so she shouted louder, fiercer, " **Look at me**!"

He looked up.

Stars, moon, _freedom_ ...

"You want to stay down there forever, Rhys?"

_Damn it._

"One foot in front of the other. C'mon, you got this."

He wasn't sure what really kickstarted his movements, but the rocks were passing below him very quickly out of nowhere. The back of his mind had become a fog. Fifteen feet left. Ten. Six. The fingers on his robotic limb were giving way. Three. He felt them loosen entirely, the silver of his hand flashing as it dropped useless to his side and he was left with only his weaker human digits to keep him from certain teeth. He squeaked, unable to move, unable to advance -

\- and Piper was joined by Nora, the two of them wrenching him the remaining distance until he rolled over the overhang rather painfully and struck his back against ... grass. Sweet, bitterly brown and dry but _grass_ nonetheless. Rhys' chest rose and fell with the rapid rhythm of a terrified mouse, the strangulation in his trachea permitting only the smallest amount of oxygen to exchange with carbon dioxide. But now, instead of terror, he was gushing with exhausted relief.

"You are," Nora was patting his head with a laugh, "a wuss."

He didn't care. Rhys rolled over and kissed the ground.

Nora slapped Piper's shoulder, slinking off into the distance with a hand on her wounded gut and leaving the reporter to handle both Cait and Vaughn. Rhys was too preoccupied to notice or care. Controlled exhalations brought frazzled nerves back to order. When his blood pressure felt like it returned to normal and his pulse was no longer bouncing the vessels in his neck, Rhys lifted his head to peer around. Cait was jockeying Vaughn so that he neither spun or bumped into anything sharp. Nora was ... somewhere.

Really. Where was she? He peered around, taking a gander at their surroundings in the meantime.

The cave must have gone on for longer than they thought. Rhys didn't recall seeing a city like this on the horizon from Sanctuary hills ... not that there was much left to be seen. Boston was gone. So this ... this was _not_ Boston, but somewhere else. And everything here was primarily intact, if a little burned out. They stood on the bank of a larger river, its current sluggish. Ahead to his right was a tall bridge supported by concrete pillars, partially collapsed from what Rhys assumed was a result of the nuclear blast's seismic shock. Car-sized chunks of concrete (along with actual vehicles) dammed up a portion of the river, redirecting some of it into the waterfall-laden sinkhole they crawled out from. Much further south was ... ah ... _there it was_ : the familiar nothingness where the massive state capital once stood high and mighty.

Rhys heard the creaking of metal construction and straining cables. Looking up, he promptly felt _very small_. A highway overpass hovered ominously over their skulls by several dozens of feet. Bits had fallen away a long time, leaving parts of the elevated roadway disconnected from each other. How it managed to avoid failing was beyond Rhys. The feats of modern engineering - at least what was modern for this old-timey Earth - was truly something to marvel at.

At his back was an incline heading upwards. There was another bridge, this one several times more compact, littered with burned out vehicles and fleshy masses of what he assumed (hoped) were monsters destroyed by guns or other monsters. Just past the roadway, beyond the overpass' hefty, intimidating legs, was another city ... somehow still intact, though harrowed in spots by spot fires long since extinguished. Char marks bedazzled broken windows with smoky eyeliner, walls made entirely of brick cracked by what had once been an intense heat ... The Geiger in his Synth eye spiked every now and then when focusing on different buildings, but there was nothing too terribly outlandish to be worried about.

He averted his gaze skywards to quiet the trepidation of being utterly lost. No smoke or clouds ... It must have cleared up while they were underground, and how long was that? Hours? Not days, no way ... In an attempt to avoid his thoughts dwelling on darker destinations, he temporarily fascinated himself on the placement of stars. Brilliant constellations unlike any he had seen before ... the pale, milky feathering of the galaxy's edge. The moon was so much further than Elpis' placement in relation to Pandora and much less beautiful, yet its simplistic gray face had a gorgeous allure compared to Pandora's heavily scarred satellite.

 _Aliens_.

They really were aliens.

He, Sasha, Vaughn, Fiona, Janey, Athena ... none of them really belonged here. It was an ideology that was almost hard to comprehend. Born on planets surrounded by psychotic bandits, deadly wildlife, and business sharks, they'd had nothing but a hostile upbringing to hone them for interactions with equally hostile strangers. Survival came in the manifestation of robbery, con-artistry, deal-stealing, and airlocking. True, honest-to-goodness friendships were few and far between.

Here on a war-torn Earth, it almost seemed to be the direct opposite. Both planets were merciless. But Earth was more populated with citizens willing to go out of their way to save a complete strangers. Minutemen, rushing in to save the day without want for payment and even helping to establish settlements for the wayward. The Railroad, dedicated to integrating Synths into a normal lifestyle. The Brotherhood of Steel, slaves to old-world technology but learning, gradually, that humanity was worth so much more. And the Institute ...

Rhys had nothing for that one. The Institute was dead as far as he knew. Its building became a base of operations for the BoS, but he'd watched enough of the so-called geniuses struggle and fail to get some of the machinations in proper working order. Lead by the dead son of a Minutemen general, the faction was a 'lost civilization', doomed to collect dust in spite of its potentially wondrous accomplishments. Comparable, almost, to Atlas.

A nimble body crept into his peripheral vision. Rhys turned his chin, surveying Nora circling a pre-war flatbed. Unique in design, the model variant had a wench on either side of the bed, coupled with their own small electrical engines. Initially fearful of her proximity, Rhys found it difficult to ward off his curiosity. He stepped over the rusted guardrail to join her.

Several questions flitted into his head, toyed with his tongue. _Do you remember anything about what you did? Was Handsome Jack really in your head? What about killing those innocents - the Captures? And Maya? What did you do to Zer0? Are you aware you've got a Siren inside you?_

But all he could manage to voice was, "What are you doing?"

"Missing my Pip-Boy," she answered without so much as a forethought. She wasn't startled by his sudden approach. Just how many points did she jack into her perception skill? "Its flashlight. The music." Looking over the vehicle, Nora graced her visage with a grimace. Only now was Rhys aware how much of a distance she kept between her and the derelict truck. "The Geiger counter it had."

He blinked. "I thought," asked the cyborg, scratching his neck, "radiation didn't bother you?"

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly want to go charging right into a plume of the crap. It's too easy to spend way too much time in it and not realize just how screwed your are until it's too late." Her teal eye locked onto his cybernetic one. She gestured to it with her elbow, absent-mindedly stroking the obnoxiously long blue tie draped around her neck. "Does that ... uh ... ?"

She didn't need to ask. "Actually, yeah." Rhys squinted at the truck. Nothing. "No reading. Why would there be one?"

As if issued an all-clear, Nora made a beeline for the hood. Gloved fingers found the latch and propped it open. "Most stuff's powered by nuclear energy. If the truck's damaged, the core could be leaking ionized radiation."

She dropped the knapsack, undid the zipper, and returned to fiddling with the vehicle. Ever-cautious Rhys stood next to her with a dwelling sense of foreboding. He watched her work meticulously at disconnecting several wires from a large metal cap sitting dead center in the engine compartment. "What are you doing?"

"Retrieving a gold brick, metaphorically speaking." Nora removed the steel lid with all the delicacy of somebody unveiling a forbidden treasure. At rest in its casket was a cylindrical metal object painted yellow and black - oddly reminiscent of Loader Bot's original paint job. The general rolled it between her hands, looking no better than a kid in a candy store. She saw Rhys' perplexed (and intrigued) expression and offered the item to him.

He took it in hand far-too eagerly, both eyes examining every little groove and detail. "What is it?"

"A fusion core," she announced proudly. Rhys double-checked the radiation levels and cut loose a sigh when it indicated none. At least the casing was intact. You couldn't be too sure. "If oil is a machine's blood and electricity is the nervous system, then _that's_ the heart. They're used to power virtually anything - from cars to generators, assaultrons to vertibirds. Invaluable to the BoS because they allow power armor to function. What's even better? They last for _years_. Like, **centuries**."

Rhys thought back to the Mister Gutsy his group encountered outside of Vault 81. If it kept on going 200 years after the dropping of nuclear bombs, there was no questioning the validity of her statement. He was somewhat grateful to get the radioactive device plucked from his hands by an overly-enthusiastic Nora, though he couldn't help but, "Awwww," his disappointment.

She tucked it into the knapsack, giving the satchel a happy little pat. "You never know when they might become useful." Starting to close the hood, Nora took one last look at the engine's wires and bit her lip. "I don't have a hoarding problem," she grumbled, but plowed through the trove of goodies until she's basically stripped the whole compartment, stowing away her collection with shame.

"Are you sure?" Rhys laughed. "Admission _is_ the first step."

"Screw you, Suit."

"Just stating a fact."

"Here's a fact." Nora pointed to his shoes, sticking out her tongue. "Those are hideous."

His face fell into disgruntled annoyance. She let out a bubbly guffaw.

The general slammed the hood shut. She leaned against the grill in quiet contemplation. Rhys did the same, folding his arms. "Are we, uh, far from Sanctuary Hills?"

"Yeah, actually." Nora nodded to the still-standing urban wasteland shadowing them. "We're outside of Cambridge - where I met Danse, ironically. It's a good hike back to Sanctuary. Probably a day and a half. But with your buddy being sick, we should work on getting him taken care of first. Since most settlers've been evacuated, we won't be bumping into any friendly civilization any time soon. So we'll hit a hospital. They're bound to have medical supplies, if they haven't been scavenged through and through."

"Where's a hospital?"

"Kendall is closer, but it's _inside_ Cambridge ... So we're bound to bump into radiation, feral ghouls, maybe raiders if they decided to set up shop ... Alternatively we could hit Medford. That's going back north, but it's away from any major developments and considerably safer. We'll play it by ear once they get Vaughn out of the hole. After that we can treck back to Sanctuary."

Rhys must have gained a far-away tint to his eyes, for she elbowed him with a grin. The unwarranted contact made him jump. "Wha-what?!"

"Don't worry so much. You'll get an ulcer." With a decisive wink, she continued with confidence, "I'm sure your girlfriend's ripping through all those assholes to find you as we speak. She definitely looks like she'd turn into a human meat-grinder."

He flushed, face warming as it did every time he and Sasha were referred to as a couple. The concept was so surreal. The butterflies in his stomach, coupled with the unabashed conviction in Nora's firm belief, actually made him feel better. He was kind of starting to appreciate the general's company ... whenever she wasn't scaring the living shit out of his subconscious.

"She _can_ be pretty terrifying," Rhys admitted.

"Most women are, Guy." Then her good eye narrowed. Nora was looking at his metal arm again, mouth twisting into something uncomfortably disconcerted. "Hey, listen, about your - "

But Piper was shouting frantically, Cait was cursing loudly, Vaughn was emitting terrified grunts and groans. Betwixt all of them came thunderous roars intertwined with the peculiar din of wind being sliced into several pieces. Rhys spun to face the chasm but Nora was already past him, drawing her serrated blade as disturbed air currents blasted whole slabs of stone from the precipice Piper kneeled upon.

"Kings!" Nora was shouting, true endangerment icing her words. "Those are kings!"

As the last syllables spilled from her maw, Rhys watching two pairs of finned hands grope the ledge, propelling themselves over in a furious display of fangs, claws, and tails. He barely had a chance to distinguish the purplish-pink scales, rippling muscles and fishy yellow eyes before one of them came barreling towards him. He wasn't even given enough time to muse how, _This thing looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoo -_

It was jumping for him, bellowing hard with sharp, razor-like teeth split wide apart like it wanted to swallow him whole or at least _try_. Rhys yelped while he grabbed for his stun baton. He'd barely managed to unleash it, electricity sparking to life at it's tip. Knees bent, arms jerked forward, cybernetic eye wide with horror, human orb squinting tightly shut -

They met in mid-swing. Black claws raked against the metallic rod with enough force to launch it from Rhys' grip while, concomitantly, the full brunt of the CEO's shock-fueled baseball swing propelled the screeching abomination headlong into asphalt. It thrashed wildly, arcs of blue lightning stretching across its moist flesh, demanding control of its muscles in the newest, hippest version of lock-joint.

But that tonic-clonic phase lasted a mere three seconds ... too long for Rhys to get his bearings by clearing his foggy brain. The adrenaline surge gave him just enough of a boost to reach the felled baton as the Mirelurk king rose to its webbed feet. It howled again and something knocked Rhys flat on his face before continuing its linear trajectory into the horizon - that same disturbed ball of wavering air from earlier. _A sonic boom ..._ Mirelurks could do that?

He rolled, extending the baton in front of him like it would save him from the leaping, slashing monster. Rhys's scream was by no means sonic but it was certainly _loud_.

Then the king was in half, his bisection complete with dripping innards as it fell spasming to the ground. Rhys touched his mouth first, whispering, "Did I do that?"

Certainly not. Nora shook the gore from her sword. She gripped his free palm and hoisted him to his feet before he could refuse. "You good?"

"I - I ... " A jittering, clicking noise startled him into jumping. When the general laughed, Rhys realized it had been the knocking of his own knees. "G-good, yeah, where's the other on ... ne ... ?"

As his question came to a close, Nora was motioning to a pile of multi-colored limbs splayed across the guard rail. Its corpse was pocketmarked with an assortment of cuts and bullet holes. Piper bent next to it, ejecting her pistol's clip with disapproval.

"I'm out," she stated in such a bland, calm tone that Rhys was reminded of somebody who'd run out of popcorn at a movie theatre. How were they not shaken up at this?

 _Just like Pandora._ They were used to it. This was life for them.

Nora's teal eye was gawking at Rhys' baton. He retracted it quickly. "I want to nerd out over that thing so badly," the general told him with a twinkling teal eye and an excited zeal to her voice, "but we need to get Cait and your buddy and get the hell out of here. If there's kings, then there's going to be a - "

There was no need for Nora to finish. The quaking earth and Cait's booming scream of, "Mirelurk queen!" was enough to get the point across.

* * *

Two kings were bad enough. Assaulted at the cliff's edge, Piper had no choice but to release what tension she was able to maintain on the bungee cord and face the beast rearing his ugly mug at her. Cait was prepared for the sudden ten-foot drop. She doubted Vaughn was, but was grateful his general disorientation kept him quiet ... more or less.

He started huffing and grunting like a wild boar when a third king came spidering up towards them.

"Ya gotta be shitin' me," Cait hissed, letting go of the cord with one arm to grace the monster with a 'come hither' type of motion.

Normal Mirelurks were too bulky and awkward to manage scaling walls, but the kings were built entirely different. Instead of crabby vice-grips, they were armed with bendable, claw-tipped phalanges and a determination to get to whatever destination by any means necessary.

Vaughn started dry-heaving when Cait pushed them off the vertical rock surface. She kept them at just enough distance to keep the small accountant safe from cleaving appendages until she managed to get at just the right angle ...

"Gotcha, bitch!" she snarled, thrusting her clenched fist into the king's temple. Sharp rebar penetrated his skull. She held him there long enough to activate her hydraulic power fist and finish the job with squelching bone and gray matter. The king left a chunky smear where his head rested, cartwheeling limply into the deep chasm as Cait removed her knuckles from its extra-crushed cranium.

"That was ... disgusting," managed the half-naked alien man through a mouthful of fresh vomit.

"Yer alive, aint'cha?"

Cait planted the soles of her feet along the stone crag, gripping the cord and scaling skybound. By the time she reached the mouth, the cage fighter began feeding herself the bungee cord's extra slack, gradually raising Vaughn's half-conscious meat-sack to her level. A niggling anxiety burrowed into her mind. These were kings. And where there were kings, there were queens. So where was the big momma herself?

She wished she didn't ask herself that.

Something massive moved below. A hollow rumble sent perturbations and shivers along her spine. Queens couldn't roar like their male counterparts. They could only echo some kind of distinguishable, reverberating groan ... and that was exactly what she was hearing now.

Vaughn was definitely seeing it. "What is that?!"

"They cinnae climb, ya don't gotta worr - "

A chela snapped into the rock face, effectively planting itself so that half of the claw vanished beneath stone. The other followed suit, striking higher ... and with this newfound leverage, the queen's ambulatory legs mounted the wall, gaining ground every time her primary grips advanced and found support. And each time she punctuated the solid surface, the earth would shake something fierce.

"Mirelurk queen!" Cait called shrilly enough to be heard beyond their domain. "Fuck me - c'mon, whelp, we gotta roll!"

He didn't protest. Instead, Vaughn chanted breathlessly as the massive, barnacle-ridden carapce approaching them got closer and closer. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Cait rolled over the bluff, clambered to her knees and heaved. The other three joined her, wrenching with all their might until Vaughn's puny figure flopped helplessly past the escarpment. She unclipped his carabiner, tossing it rudimentarily aside. Rhys and Piper both gathered the man on either side, leading him up the embankment and over the guard rail onto the broken street leading into Cambridge. Nora followed them. The Irish lass started to join, only to fall flat on her face.

"Th' fuck?" she snarled, gazing down ... and her eyes widened in abstract terror. The cord was wrapped around her ankle. "Bitch bitch bitch!" She fumbled with the elastic band, frantically slipping fingers beneath the too-tight coils until she managed to loosen it just enough to slide her foot through.

She was free to run ... had the queen not surpassed the chasm, her gargantuan chitin-covered torso emerging with the macabre glory of a disfigured dolphin. The beast was atop her, pinning Cait's arms in place with dactyls and movable digits.

"FUCK! SHITE!"

Nora and Piper were calling to her, their male companions echoing shrieks of horrid realization. What words were spoken, however, were lost to the insufferable clicking emitted through the frothing formation that was the queen's maw. It drew close enough for Cait to get a full blast of a nose hair-burning stench of fish and decay, hovering a mere foot above the woman's kicking legs. One foot connected with a moving _thing_ connected to the queen's vertical mouth-hole. It did nothing but _thunk_ against the tough exoskeleton.

When the queen drooled vile green sputum onto Cait's lower body, the woman's screams of rage transformed into shrieks of agony. Digestive juices burned through skin, ate through muscle and connective tissue, dug straight to _bone_. And as multiple chelicerae pulled her contorting bodice into its writhing maw, Cait had to wonder why the gods wouldn't allow her to slip into unconsciousness so that she didn't have to feel _everything_ about her unwitting demise.

* * *

Rhys was sure his own grief was nothing compared to the absolute devastation shadowing Nora's face.

He wanted to do something, say _anything_ ... but what was there that he could do? Fight the creature in Cait's honor? He could hardly hold his own against a Mirelurk king, let alone a _queen_. And this thing ... it was **huge**. What was he going to do with the stun baton? Poke it's eye out - if he could even reach that high?

Nora's sword-hand hung limply. The steel tip was scraping against road. "Wait," her whisper hung meekly. "Cait ... "

The Atlas CEO dared to step towards her. Piper hefted him back, negotiating turns around demolished vehicles. She remained silent until they were at least twenty feet away and taking cover behind the flatbed. Even then, her eyes were dark, and when she spoke it came out in broken, forced spurts.

"We'll ... be safe the further ... the further we are from it," explained the reporter. "Queens, they ... uh, they tend to spit acid ... "

Vaughn hedged on whether his query was necessary. Finally he voted that it should be said. "Why aren't you fighting it?"

Piper showed him the pistol. "I'm empty," came her somber reply. Tears were threatening to fall. She wiped them on the sleeve of her red leather jacket. Vaughn awkwardly stroked her shoulder.

Rhys was suddenly aware they were missing one person. "Where's Nora?" He stood, looking here and there. The general had not moved. Still rooted to the same spot, her jaw hung slack and her fingers tightened spasmodically along Buzzkill's hilt. "Hey, HEY!"

Rather than retreat, Nora stood to face the arthropod as it reared back on walking legs. For one heart-stopping minute the two stared at one another. And then ... then Nora was moving, one foot falling in front of the other, getting _closer_ to the beast.

"What is she _doing_?!" Rhys exclaimed. Was she out of her mind?! He wanted to run out and grab her but found his legs unable to move.

Piper and Vaughn peeked out from behind the flatbed's bumper. They all watched Nora's foot bump into the dropped carabiner. She bent down to scoop it up, examined the length of bungee cord trailing behind her to the guard rail ... and flipping on the electric switch of her sword, swung at the stretchable rope. The voltage's radiant heat seared through it like a warm knife through butter. Then Nora was clipping the carabiner back onto the cord, feeding the black nylon through its opening until she was left with a lasso the width of a manhole cover, all the while apparently oblivious to the queen's gradual advancement.

When Nora stood again, Rhys managed a millisecond-long glimpse of her remaining eye. He drew back at the intensity imprinted upon him for that briefest moment. There was an inferno burning inside of her.

"This is the reason," Piper susurrated quietly, "why we follow _her_ and not the other way around."

"Should we help?"

"At this point, it's better just to stay out of her way."

A cold, hard knot clenched occupied the throbbing spot where her heart had been.

"Give ... "

Nora was aware of her legs moving.

_Nate falling forward, blood oozing from the bullet's burrowed hole in his temple._

Picking up speed.

_Shaun's hand going limp in her own, his chin dipping low against his chest._

The queen's call was dangerously close, threatening. Rocks and sticks and dirt skirted underneath her in a blur with Nora's passing.

_Deacon, dead and rotting somewhere in the middle of Sanctuary Hills' rubble pile._

"Give her ... "

She had to be alive. The Irish woman was too tough for this bullshit. To go out like this? Unbelievable. **Impossible**.

Crab claws launched for Nora's head. She dipped low, swinging legs out and slipping by like she was sliding to home plate. A quick flick of her wrist and the bungee cord lasso was tethered about the queen's right chela. Nora allowed the running end to ride through her palm, grabbing only when the end drew near.

The arthropod went into a full-bodied swing to the left, unknowingly yanking the cord along with her. It grew taut in Nora's grip. Then it reacted, slinging the general through the air like an angled projectile. Holding her sword out to her side, the woman's expression was a mash-up of grief and fury.

She was pulled in close and quick. The queen didn't know how to react.

"GIVE CAIT BACK!"

It swooned upon impact, but Nora's sword found no purchase point. Another wild swing spiraled the woman downward. Her feet skittered across stone, the exterior steel toes grinding sparks. For every movement the gigantic crab made, Nora was tossed accordingly. She was drawn in several times, able to land a hit or three on a few of them. At least two of the queen's scuttling legs fell victim to her harshly-edged weapon. She managed to undo the right dactyl by slipping the blade through the connective point between chitin. It flopped there uselessly now, spurting a sickly neon green ichor.

But none of these strikes were ones she was content with. Nora wanted the money shot. She wanted the queen's _face_.

 _I'm going to kill it,_ clamored violent thoughts. _I'm going to rip it wide the hell open and get you out, Cait ..._

When their orbits intersected again, the queen wisened up to her tendencies. The very claw Nora used to jettison around swung upwards, blocking her path. She took the full blow of it with her abdomen, grunting painfully through depleted lungs at the sound and feel of snapping stitches.

But it didn't stop her.

Pain only blurred her vision. It would _not_ keep her from attacking - not when her friend was at stake. Not when the bitchy, irate fighter was probably scrambling for an escape inside the Mirelurk's slippery esophagus. Still gripping the bungee cord with her left hand, Nora swung her leg over one of the movable, spiny digits, got to her feet before the beast could fling her free, and was racing up the damn thing's _arm_.

Nora screamed, positioning the blade for impalement between its infuriatingly red, glassy eyes -

\- and Buzzkill bounced away, the queen having had just enough reaction time to angle her head so that Nora was met with its thick, calcified carapace. Mirelurks weren't stupid ... something Nora forgot in her rage-imbue state. But rather than feel defeat, the general was by the everlasting desire to succeed and _win_.

"You wanna play like that, huh?" she growled. The queen responded by thrusting a chelicerae towards her face. Nora ducked down, leaping to the ground with cord in hand.

She didn't lose her footing nor did she stall and lose speed. Instead she tore relentlessly across the embankment, past the guard rail and three rows of cars. When she was beginning to feel an unyeilding tension from the nylon between her fingers, Nora's gaze shifted meaningfully between Piper's crew and the flatbed's wench ... and then the mutant crab was ripping her backwards. She slingshotted across the cleared space, picking up speed with each cubic inch until her boots thrust into the Mirelurk's undershell.

Perhaps the creature was intelligent, but it couldn't have seen this coming ... couldn't have understood the grand plan ... even as it's balance was lost and it teetered dangerously over the deep, black abyss it had come from.

Her shell would not break by a human's sheer willpower alone. Nora's sword was useless against such an armor. But the queen was a heavy thing, and the pit was a long, long fall. Those two powers combined would be enough to crack that mutant's miserable defense.

The quivering lobster-like tail would do no good in restoring the Limulidae monarch to a standing position. She fell with her back to the chasm. Nora rode atop its chest like a surfer, dropping the cord in case the beast spun.

They came upon the rock shelf. It could not withstand the queen's horrendous weight, shattering upon brutal contact. What splintering of the queen's shell began at this point only intensified when the final impact was encountered. The pool at the bottom was shallower than Nora thought, but deep enough to send huge, rippling waves in either direction. It would have been a nifty scenery, partially illuminated by the moon and clusters of glowing mushrooms ... if not for the sudden massive gathering of angry, dislocated Mirelurks of varying ranks, from hatchling to hunter ... Disillusioned at first, they quickly learned the source of their disturbance and made for it.

Time was of the essence.

Thrashing and clicking, the queen's frothing mouth oozed green and white bubbles. When its head twisted, Nora could hear the telltale crunching of her broken shell. She reached past the glowing eyes, grabbed at the carapace and pulled until a large plate peeled away. Maybe the monster was in pain, maybe it was in total _agony,_ but Nora could care less. She thrust Buzzkill into the soft flesh made vulnerable by a hastily thought-out plan and the creature's struggle became no more.

"Gottagofastgottagofast," breathed the general, withdrawing the blade and watching the queen's 'crown' fall backwards.

She jabbed the sword's edge into the bottom corner of its frothing maw and conducted a crude autopsy. When just enough of the supple underbelly was dissected, Nora sheathed her weapon and began hysterically peeling back flesh. Mirelurks found the queen's corpse. They were starting to haul themselves aboard.

"Cait!" she screeched in hysteria. Fingers dug thoughtlessly through viscera and lime-colored blood. "CAIT! If you can hear me - !"

Nora pulled away a thin, membranous veil of what had to have been the queen's digestive pathway. A pale hand greeted her. The fingers were twitching, the arm stretching as far as it could go. Nora grabbed and pulled. Cait's ichor-coated face was expunged. Lips parted, gasping breaths were taken in, green eyes blinked rapidly. "Fuckin' 'ell, Nora - "

"I got you, Cait!"

"NORA!" Piper was shouting. She dropped a thick cable down to them. The large metal hook at its end stopped just two feet shy of Nora's head so that she had to leap to grab onto it. The Mirelurks were closing in. Seven feet away and counting ...

"I GOT IT!" she screamed back. "PULL!"

Piper turned away from the edge. Nora could see her arms flailing some kind of signal ... and then the cable was lifting. It was strong enough to heave Cait free from her confines the rest of the way, but slow enough to allow the first Mirelurk to approach them. Nora kicked it in the face. It toppled backwards into the others for a domino effect.

The flatbed wench lurched and for a fleeting moment Nora was terrified that it may have broken. Then they were practically _flying_ up the abyss, tossed over the bluff and sent airborne. Nora had enough time to see Rhys using his Tesla-armed baton to fiddle with the mechanism as the ground rushed up to meet her.

Whatever stitches remained in her gut sure as shit popped now. "That fucking hurt," she grunted with a mouthful of dirt, but issued a thumbs up regardless.

* * *

"You said to get them back up in a hurry," Rhys yelled to Piper, flashing pearly whites at Nora's approving gesture. "Was that fast enough?"

But Piper was staring down at Cait. A moment later, so was Nora. Their dread was clear but he couldn't understand why. She was alive, and moving, and groaning ... So why was the reporter covering her mouth with a sickly green hue encompassing her face? Why was Nora shaking?

Vaughn was a little closer to them than Rhys was. His reaction was similar to their's, except he was muttering, "Oh ... oh god ... "

He still didn't understand ... not until Nora hoisted the cage fighter up for a piggy back ride, holding her arms instead of her legs because her legs - and a sizable portion of her pelvis - simply weren't there anymore. Rhys' elation sunk. "Oh ... "

"We'regoingtoKendall," Nora gushed. She didn't want to take the time to explain her decision, catering instead to the need of locomotion.

Rhys had no idea how she managed to keep going after all that action, but there she went as quickly as her feet could carry her. Blood was pouring from Cait's lower half. It soaked through Nora's coat and left a gruesome trail through the dying grass. She garbled something - an argumentative statement, perhaps. It fell on deaf ears. Nora wasn't stopping.

Piper's stumbling made it impossible for her to continue without some support and Vaughn, in spite of his feverish state, helped her along by encircling her waist with his arm. (In a different situation, it would have been funny to watch this short man lead a full-grown woman). The Atlas CEO trailed behind numbly, his tattered, dirty suit about summing up the way he was starting to feel.

* * *

 

"Nora, stop ... "

Cait's whispers were heard but ignored. They were almost to Cambridge. _Just a little further ..._ Maybe the hospital was fully-stocked. Maybe there was an auto-doc. Maybe -

"Nora, _please_."

"I'm not gonna - "

" _Goddamn it_ , listen t' me!"

The general didn't respond, so Cait rewarded her with a hard box to the ear. It was rough enough to rattle her brains, forcing Nora to slow. Another blow made her stop entirely. She grimaced, feeling fresh blood leak on the inside of her missing eye's bandage.

Nora's eyes found a fixed point on the ground. She could not find the heart to look up. "I'm not gonna lose you, too."

But they both knew it wouldn't matter how determined Nora was.

"Ya - ya cinnae save e'erybody, lass." Cait's voice was hoarse. Ragged. "N' what good am I gonna be wit' no legs, even if ya could get me healed? C'mon now ... Put me down. I was ready fer this a long time ago." When her friend remained dubious for a second longer than she should have, the cage fighter grumbled, "Nora ... "

The general had no choice but to relent. Cait was right. An amputation in this world was a death sentence. No legs meant Cait couldn't run. And even if they were able to find help, she had lost too much blood. The Mirelurk queen's digestive juices would lead to nothing but complications in the healing process. 200 years ago they might have been able to replace Cait's bottom half with bionic parts. But here and now with nothing but a long, trecherous road between them and the Institute, that kind of life-saving procedure was well out of reach.

Nora laid Cait down gently, resting the woman's head on her lap. Piper joined them with Vaughn's help and Rhys hung back, arm's crossed and expression defeated.

"You suck," the silver-haired woman told her redheaded companion. "You suck big time."

Cait's gutter brain knew no limits. "And don' Hancock know it?" she grinned.

Piper choked a stammering laugh. "Even now, really?" The reporter was weeping freely.

"What's life worth if ye cinnae laugh in the darkest o' times, right?" The grin devolved into a smile. Cait closed her eyes, exhaling softly by the memory of good times long passed. "Y'know, he taught me how ta' shrug me past off, ta giggle at all th' bad shite. I really loved that fuckin' oaf. Ya better tell 'im t'at for me, alright?" Slitting open her gaze, Cait looked past her crew and at Rhys. "Sorry 'bout yer nose, arsehole. Reflexes, y'know?"

His metal fingers touched the tip of said body part. "It's ... it's fine."

"Hancock ain't th' only one who changed me, yea? Gave me hope ... " Cait found Nora. Her smile wobbled. "I wanted to talk to ya ... 'afore ya up an' left. This ... ain't easy fer me to say, n' I wanna get it right. Did ya know I spent three years in the Combat Zone? Three years of gettin' beaten to hell by a bunch of losers and lunatics. After the matches were over, I'd spit out the blood, stitch me wounds and do a couple shots of Psycho to keep me goin'. I fuckin' hated it. I hated the crowds, I hated the other fighters and I hated meself. I never understood why I put meself through all of that ... until now. "

The smile was gone. Her frown and narrowed gaze displayed an inner turmoil. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

"It's because I was alone. And I think ... deep down ... I wanted to die ... I wanted one of me opponents to crush the life outta me. The easy way out."

She drifted off, pale face slouching. Recognizing her gestures of discomfort, Nora softly shook her head. "Cait, you don't have to go on."

"No I ... I never been good wit' these things, yea?" Cait sighed. "My life's been nothin' but one huge failure after another. You've heard all me stories and you know the prices I've paid ... There ... there were a few times ... when things got really bad. That I ... I found meself starin' down the barrel of me own shotgun. I don't know why I didn't pull the trigger. I guess I was prayin' that I could find a single decent scrap of humanity in this fucked up world."

Cait was beaming now, her tempo picking up a more upbeat vibe.

"And then ... what ya did fer me back there at Vault 95 ... It was like the answer to those prayers. That's the first time in me life I fully depended on someone else ... an' they didn't let me down." The woman was sniffing. To her shock, Nora realized she was crying. "Goddamn it, I'm makin' a mess of this ... "

"Do you ... uh, need a minute?" asked the general. She laughed at the unusual display of emotion. Cait laughed. It felt good.

"Do I look like a gotta minute?" the veteran quizzed, perking right back up again. "I'll be fine ... I just need ta be gettin' to th' point. Th' longer we've been spendin' time together, th' more I'm beginning to realize what ya mean to me. An' I'm _not_ just talkin' about ya watchin' me back or sharin' a drink together. I mean more than that. Before we met, I'd never let me guard down around anyone. I didn't dare ... But with you, I feel like I can let you in and see me for everythin' I am. For better or for worse."

Her once strong lungs erupted into a spasm of bloodletting so forceful and body-wrenching that Cait initially couldn't catch her breath. Nora could do nothing but rub her sternum as if that would magically cure her ailment. Each painstaking moment she wheezed was thrusting daggers into her heart.

Finally, Cait managed to calm herself long enough to wipe the blood from her lips.

"What I ... " Voice lowering, words spreading further and further apart, Cait strained to get out what she wanted to say. "What I ... need ya to do ... is look me in the eyes n' ... tell me ya feel somethin' too."

Nora felt her throat tighten. "Of course," she squeezed out. "You ... the others ... You're all ... family to me."

"Family ... ," Cait breathed, cupping Nora's bruised cheek and smiling feebly. "Yea ... I like th' sound o' th ... "

Her grip went lax. Cait's fingers slid down Nora's face, smearing blood as they fell away. The once ever-angry, ever-violent, ever-passionate eyes mingled with a white noise the general could only ever attribute to one thing and one thing alone. The stressed, irregular rise and fall of her chest stilled to a bleak nothingness as one final, slow gasp vacated her parted mouth. Nora wanted to call for her. To shake her back to life. She wanted to cry, but her tear ducts were unwilling to break the dam. Her head hung low, silvery bangs falling to conceal her eyes, shadows dancing across her visage.

Across the horizon, a lukewarm sun was poking from where it hid beyond the wreckage of a broken world. Its gentle beams of light showered renewed life onto a deadly landscape. Empty buildings became dark ghosts pressed against the brightening sky.

Dawn was breaking.

* * *

"We'll go to Kendall and get your friend taken care of," Nora told them an hour later when she finally mustered up the strength to leave. Her hand was pressed firmly against her stomach. Every time she pulled it back, Rhys could see blood staining her palm. The wound was open yet again. "As soon as we're done there, we'll trail back to Sanctuary. Look for the others."

Any plans for Cait's quick burial were cut short by Vaughn's inexplicable timing. His fever was intensifying. Muscles and limbs became so weak so fast that he'd fainted on them shortly after the cage fighter's passing. Rhys was carrying him now, marching on the front lines alongside the exhausted, bedraggled Minutemen general and the Publick Occurrences reporter.

"Rhys, I'll need you to keep an eye out." He couldn't tell if it was meant as a joke ... She was so monotone now, her charismatic nature drained by circumstance. Nora pointed to her own busted ocular while trying to indicate his Synth replacement. "Watch for radiation. I can take it. You guys can't. We'll avoid any hot spots. If you see or hear anything, start sneaking. We don't need to be getting into any unnecessary fights."

The CEO nodded wordlessly.

Piper's pistol was useless now without ammunition. She'd found the mountaineering axe, however, and wielded it instead. "Do you think everybody is okay at Sanctuary?"

"I dunno. We'll find out when we ... "

Nora trailed off. Her eyes - er, _eye_ \- became mesmerized, focused. Piper's stare joined her's. It took Rhys an extra second to realize what they were looking at and when he did, his heart bounced.

Scrawled into the red brick of the first building on Cambridge's outskirts, placed carefully so that the words were facing north, was cursive handwriting etched in forcefully by white stone. The slab of concrete used to write the message was dropped on the sidewalk in front of it.

 **Sasha**  
**Hancock**

Beneath the names was a crudely drawn five-pointed crown. The oval 'jewel' in the center was marked with an 'R'.

"Is it for real?" Piper asked as though this was the first bit of good news they'd heard all day.

Because it _was_. "I'd recognize Hancock's handwriting anywhere ... " Nora's laugh was broken, but evident. "I'll be damned."

Rhys felt hopeful, but he was confused. "What's it mean?" He could not tear his eyes away from Sasha's name.

"Back when we were moving around in one group, we'd commonly bump into trouble and get split up," Piper told him, positively beaming. "So we took this idea away from the Railroad. We left markings when we passed through areas, cities, landmarks ... whatever. Write down who was going through as well as where we were going without blatantly giving away the destination in case we were getting tailed by raiders."

Nora stabbed at the crown with her forefinger. "We used this symbol for the Castle. Pretty obvious, right? That 'R' is for rendezvous. Or 'regroup'. It means everybody is heading that way. Translation? We don't need to go to Sanctuary Hills anymore."

"So what's the Castle?"

"The Minutemen stronghold along the coast. Lots of people, plenty of artillery and the very first relay we set up to break into the Institute." Rhys' eyes widened. Judging from the pride escalating on Nora's features ... She clapped her hands together. "Back in the day, it was the only way for us to infiltrate it."

Piper snatched up the concrete piece, carefully scratching below the crown:

 **Piper**  
**Nora**  
**Rhys  
V** **aughn**

"Change of plans?" she asked Nora.

The taller woman's head bobbed. "First, the hospital. Then? The Castle."


	20. What Lies Beneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a smalllllllll goof ... kind of.
> 
> I forgot to post a chapter. 
> 
> While transferring the story from fanfiction.net to Ao3, I'd forgotten Chapter 11: Pulse. It's in there now, so go ahead and read it to be totally caught up. xD I'm so sorry for the confusion. Both my ff.net version and this version of the story are now caught up, so there will be no further issues.
> 
> Thank you!

Choking smoke was not their friend. Breathing was a labor. Seeing was near impossible. The only reason Fiona and MacCready were able to make it past half the battlefield was because they were silently paying attention to their surroundings, listening above the violent throbbing of their own heartbeats and steering away from anything potentially lethal without knowing what they were running away from or what they would wander into next.

Guttural snarls were feral ghouls. Super Mutants could be heard by their fourth-grade lingo, rugged taunting, and lumbering footfalls. The gunfire could have easily belonged to either members of their own party or the hostile Legionnaires - neither of them were willing to find out for sure with all those bullets whizzing dangerously close to their vitals. Smoldering heat with no visual origin or red glows illuminating portions of the charcoal smoke meant they were getting too close to the seat of a fire.

The only reason they found Codsworth was because Fiona literally stumbled over him. He was huddled in a fetal position, positively shivering. As MacCready pulled him to his feet, the Synth explained that he'd lost Hancock through the din and was unable to find his way to safety.

Communications were sabotaged by faulty wiring or on-the-verge-of-death pre-war technology (the latter was perhaps more accurate), so there was no getting in touch with the remainder of their group. Directional navigation was guesswork from here on in and keen senses were only going to get them but so far. Bloody gargles and death rattles were siren songs from every angle. How long before they would become part of the choir?

Their saving grace was the by-chance appearance of cellar doors. Codsworth expressed familiarity towards it and that was enough for Fiona, who very nearly ripped them off their hinges with a surge of terrified adrenaline. Once they were all inside, Fiona slammed the entrance shut and enveloped them in absolute darkness.

Immediately the wartime symphony became muffled enough for them to hear each other breathing: rapid and wheezing. Fiona was positive plumes of dust exploded from their mouths every time they coughed.

She took a step forward and struck something hard with her toes. "Ow, goddamnit," she hissed. "I can't see a damn thing."

"Hold on," MacCready told them. Fiona could hear him rummaging through his pockets. "I've got a - "

Light blossomed from his flip-lighter. It didn't do much to unveil their surroundings, but it at least gave them a small radius to work from. Fiona looked at her feet and sniffed annoyance at the massive sandbag that lay there. More were strewn across the rugged cement floor. She reached for her hat and felt wires grazing her knuckles.

"I believe this cellar belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Root," Codsworth explained to them. He tweaked his moustache, his deceptively human contact lenses staring off into the far corner. "They were the only family in Sanctuary Hills to own a basement. How queer, wouldn't you say? Nora and I inspected every inch of this town eradicating vermin like Radroaches and Bloatflies. If I recall correctly, there should be a lantern somewhere ... "

MacCready ventured further on into the room. It didn't take long for him to bump into a wall forged in stone with concrete blocks stacked up against it. A minute later he was toying with a glass-crafted item. The oil lantern sprung to life and the Gunner stuffed his lighter back where it belonged.

As she'd already guessed, this basement wasn't big at all. Clearly it was meant as nothing more than an extra storage space, but somebody at some time must have wisened up to the idea of using it as a temporary shelter. A roughened mattress was stuffed into the back. Dilapidated metal shelves sat stocked with a variety of equipment: aluminum cans, a few provisions like Cram and Blamco Mac N' Cheese, a toolbox and some screwdrivers, and a box of ammunition (to which MacCready whooped his luck). The first-aid kit was being sifted through by Codsworth. The Synth peeled back his suit, exposing his shoulder, and emptied the contents of a Stimpack into a hidden port there.

"I am restocking," he explained to Fiona when she scrunched up her face. "Hancock was injured several times. I spent a good deal of my reserved while tending to his wounds."

"This'll be as good a spot a any to hold up for a while." Though he didn't look lax in the slightest, instead glancing from Mr. Handy-gone-Synth to Fiona, paying special concern to the con artist's face. "Are you alright?" he asked them, tracing his fingers around a reddened scratch that ran the length of Fiona's right cheek.

R.J. was covered from head to toe in soot. As she glanced her own hand while waving him off, Fiona noticed she was no better. Her fingers were almost entirely blackened. The brilliant turquoise nail polish which had withstood the past week's events with an unimgineable fortitude was chipping in places and missing completely in others.

"Ghoul scratched me, it's nothing." She touched her own injury for good measure. The cut was dry and clotted with dirt. "I don't know how we didn't get _shot_."

MacCready smirked. "Speak for yourself," he smirked, twisting his left leg so Fiona could get a good glimpse of the bullet hole dug into his calf muscle. He appeared _proud_ of it despite the Vault Hunter's pained wisp of sympathy. "Oh come on, it doesn't _hurt_."

"You just wait until the adrenaline wears off."

Codsworth's lanky hands found MacCready's shoulder. He steered the mercenary to the mattress and forced him to sit down. "Allow me to tend to it, sir. It won't do for it to become infected." The Synth butler exposed a tweezer finger, deftly plucking the lead from R.J.'s leg. For his part, MacCready took the ordeal like a man. It was Codsworth's display of a needle where his middle finger should be that prompted a response.

MacCready's face fell. Was he afraid? "Oh come on now, Codsbot, you don't need to go through the trouble."

"I insist, sir." Spurting some of the healing intramuscular fluid to clear any air bubbles from the line, Codsworth pulled MacCready's leg towards him. The merc fought every step of the way, eventually retracting and leading the Synth to sigh. "Must you behave this way every time, Mister MacCready?"

Fiona cupped her mouth, unable to contain her snickering. "Are you - are you afraid of needles?"

His stubborn head-shaking said, 'no', but his wide and terrified eyes said otherwise. Codsworth backed it up, stating, "He has been troublesome with them for quite some time, yes. We have had to hold him down before to administer medicine. He is so _much_ like a _child_."

R.J. snorted indignantly. "Am _not_."

"Says the man who ran a city of kids," scoffed Fiona. "Do you, like, need me to hold your hand or something?"

Stubble-decorated cheeks flushed red. " **No**. I don't need you to."

Codsworth yanked his leg out a second time, straddling it with his own small ut powerful limbs. Fighting against the butler proved futile. For a butler who's body looked so _fragile_ , he was inhumanly strong. Fiona had to remind herself that beneath the fabricated skin and muscle was a skeleton forged from something synthetic that wasn't quite metal but not completely bone.

The butler flustered atop MacCready's squirming appendage. "Hold still."

Fiona's brows raised. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to - "

" **Yes**!" A calloused hand reached for her while the other drummed nervously on a nearby shelf. MacCready flexed his fingers impatiently. "Yes, yes okay?!"

She couldn't help but snort at how distraught he was. Entwining her fingers with his own was oddly heartwarming ... until Codsworth lanced him and he cinched down hard enough to cut off her circulation. Fiona leaned in on her elbow, gasping, "My god, you're worse than a woman in labor!"

* * *

Once MacCready was patched up, he retreated to the ladder leading out. His only method of escaping embarrassment was to tend to his sniper rifle. He reloaded it with bullets from the ammunition belts wrapped about his legs, then replaced those missing .50 calibers rounds with those found in their little sanctuary.

Codsworth tended to Fiona next, informing her that the scratches could also become infected if left dirty. She noticed he was tedious and set upon every little detail like the dutifully doting house elf he was created to be. Somewhere between start to finish, he began to hum an old-world tune she wasn't familiar with, so Fiona allowed her thoughts - and eyes - to wander.

She had no problem homing in on MacCready. Seeing him without his duster coat was ... unusual. He rarely sloughed it off, even when he'd passed out in bed next to her (the thought of which unfurled an entirely new heat within her). The green scarf hanging loosely around his neck did wonders to compliment his sun-kissed, haggardly-textured skin. He wore a slightly olive-hued button-down dress shirt beneath it, long-sleeved and clinging a little tightly to his chest.

Fiona's vision turned inwards. She recalled the night spent at the Mass Pike Tunnel. More accurately, she thought about the way sweat glinted off his athletically-chiseled pectoral muscles: nothing too bulky, but defined just enough in just the right places ...

Her thoughts had an odd way of transitioning from (delicious) pleasantries to absolutely nightmarish scenarios. From Vaughn laying unconscious to Sasha getting bludgeoned by a Legionnaire (and the briefly terrifying fury bubbling to the surface on Rhys' face when he'd learned of it, dispersing immediately - and just as disturbingly - when he'd learned the offender was 'taken care of'. Fiona didn't know why it spooked her. It was a rage she felt just as strongly at the time. But seeing it on the nerdy, somewhat cowardly ex-Hyperion's complexion was ... different. Alien. It didn't belong.)

From Vaughn to Sasha ... From Maya's death to Lilith's disappearance ... That bothered the hell out of her. Two Sirens - _Sirens_ , one of the most powerful beings in the universe! - gone just like that. Lilith being gone wasn't all that bad, really. She was kind of a bitch. But on the other hand, she was also a Vault Hunter _**leader**_. They all looked up to her, so maybe she wasn't that horrendous all the time? She _was_ kind of badass. After all, she did _kill_ Handsome Jack the human.

And her parting words before being taken ... the warning about Rhys ... Surely she was just misunderstanding him. Pandora was a plethora of grudges against all sorts of people. Hyperion hatred was difficult to let go of when so many thousands of settlers were murdererd and the planet was very nearly destroyed. Fiona knew. She and Sasha had been no better. At first.

Fiona felt guilty for her assumptions. Whenever they found Lilith, she decided she would try to warm up to her - get to know her - find out her side of the story ... _whatever_. The final fact was this: Lilith got seized way too easily. By who? For what reasons?

Then Zer0, Mordecai, and Brick all vanished. Three of Pandora's strongest, most legendary badasses _poof_ ing in thin air ... all by the creature shrouded in shadow bearing the very same markings of a Siren itself without looking the least bit human.

Well ... at least the Siren on Earth was accounted for. That brought them one step closer to answers and about twenty steps closer to death. They were lucky to escape with their heads, but Sasha was still out there. And Vaughn. And Rhys.

Closing her burning eyes, Fiona felt her heart rate increase tenfold. Sasha was no weakling. She could stand her own ground in a fight where she was clearly outnumbered, as she had back at Old Haven with those robotic drones lighting the place up with turrets or when she'd gone chasing after Rhys and Gortys at the biodome. And with the two former Hyperions at her side, there was no doubt in her mind that she would look after them, and they she. Fiona could see Rhys practically jumping in front of a bullet to save her. Or vice versa. It was the vice versa that troubled her.

But with three fucking tribes of enemies running circles in blackout conditions? Fiona heard Sasha calling back to her not long ago. Where was she now?

MacCready's sharp whistle snapped her head up (with some very entertaining fusses from Codsworth that lingered on the edge of profane). He eyed her with distinct concern, rubbing his rifle's muzzle with a cloth. "Are you ... okay? You look like you got a little lost there."

"I'm ... ," she started hesitantly, pausing midway through her response because she didn't know how to answer. Fiona touched her cheek as Codsworth pulled away, beaming proudly at his handiwork.

"All set to scrap again, ma'am!" he chirruped, withdrawing the needles back into his fingers and capping them off. MacCready was relieved to see them go.

Fiona nodded slowly. Her eyes darkened, fingers rolling lightly over the laser rifle's hilt. Roshambo was heavy on her wrist. Sasha was out there somewhere in the dark fire.

"I can't stay here," she said suddenly. Fiona's throat was constricted. Boots clacked against course aggregate. Reaching for the ladder's rungs, she pushed away MacCready's attempt to stall her. "I can't. Not with Sasha - "

"Whoaaaaaah now, Fi," the mercenary refused, grabbing her waist. He attempted to pry her from the ladder but Fiona's grip was rigid. "You'd get killed going out there."

"You don't _know_ me," she snapped, pressing a heel sharply into his ribs. "I can hold my own."

" _Really_?!" MacCready grabbed her ankle, wrenching it both away from his chest and off to the side. His fingers were taut. Nails dug into her skin. "Because I recall _somebody_ getting dragged off by **two** Gunners. And ya know how many bad guys are out there _right now_?!"

Codsworth flagged them down with raised palms. His jaw was slack and his oculars wide. "Please, this isn't necessary! Miss Fiona, you will surely be ripped apart beyond the cellar!"

"All the more reason for me to go!" Anxiety became frantic fury. She spun on the ladder so that her back faced it, kicking MacCready square in his soft abdomen with her free foot. He keeled over, effectively winded and nearly losing his footing. "Nobody can see in the dark and Rhys can't fight worth a shit - you know that - "

"He certainly ... ," whuffed the ex-Gunner. Codsworth helped him straighten. "Held off ... a Radscorpion - "

" - by **LUCK**. But out there, with all of those beasts?!"

Fiona returned to her endeavor. MacCready wasn't going to have it, plowing towards the ladder and climbing on with no hesitation. His body was so lean and his motions so limber that it didn't shake as he moved. Before the con artist could process what was going on, he'd climbed _over_ her, pressing her into the rungs so that she couldn't move.

"I won't let you go," he warned. His breath ran hot across her neck, rising anger evident in his rumbling tone. MacCready found her hands, burrowing his fingers beneath her's. The outrageous combination of roughness, closeness, and implicit intimacy caused her to shiver involuntarily.

"Then come with me!" shouted the brunette. She struggled against him. He responded by pressing harder into her. "Between the two of us and Codsworth - "

"Oh no, do not count me on this, ma'am! That is suicide!"

"We'd still get **killed**!" R.J. practically screamed into her ear. "I can't _**snipe**_ through _**SMOKE**_ Fiona!" He'd uncurled her fingers, grabbed them firmly between his own, and fell backwards with her in tow. Once they'd struck the ground he rolled to pin her, still grasping her hands in case she was going to swing at him. She certainly _looked_ like she wanted to - amidst the wild glint in her eyes that made his head spin and his heart yammer. "Do you WANT to die? Because we sure as hell won't survive that mess. And we _**won't**_ be any help if we're DEAD."

" **Then let** _ **ME**_ **go**!"

"I will **NOT**." MacCready's face lowered to her's. He was positively incensed: his cheeks red with anger and his pupils so tight that it was a wonder light could reach through them. Their lips were mere centimeters apart. Charges of electricity passed between them. "What, so you can go run off and get killed? Tell me EXACTLY how that'll help you're sister, please! Because I'd LOVE to hear it! Tell me - " his hands balled into fists and Fiona grunted at fingers bending the wrong way " - exactly how that'll help _me_."

Fiona blinked. "I ... " Her stunned tongue could not find the words. MacCready's brilliant blue eyes were contracting and relaxing rhythmically, brimming with the tracest elements of lust and something deeper and out of place. Heart slowing, breathing relaxing, muscles releasing ... she fell limp. "I ... don't know."

MacCready reacted in kind. He let loose her fingers, red and painfully locked in place. His eyes were tracking Fiona's, gaze switching from them to her lips with an incorrigible desire and for that moment, had Codsworth not been there, she was sure she would fulfill that wish by tackling his mouth fiercely.

"Don't be stupid," he whispered to her in a softer but still firm voice. R.J. pulled away slowly.

The way his fingers ran lightly, longingly along her belly as he sat up made it painfully evident just how close they'd gotten. Somewhere in the mess awaiting above ground came a screaming Legionnaire shouting his Latin chant while a Super Mutant bleated out its final words. Grateful for the distraction, R.J. pointed upwards.

"Wait for the idiots to kill each other off."

Fiona didn't realize she'd been holding her breath. Nor did she notice the heat in her chest until it started to subside. Had that been from anger alone? "You said that so casually." she commented, trying very hard to keep her voice even.

MacCready nodded. "A trick of the trade."

"A very intelligent one, if you'd ask me," complimented Codsworth. He was no idiot to what had almost transpired judging from the way he looked away from them as he spoke. "There have been several occasions where we would be outnumbered by multiple bogies. The kind that would ruthlessly murder one another if they should come into contact."

"So ... we rang the dinner bell a few times. See, there was this one time ... A settlement up north overrun close to the old asylum. It was overrun by raiders. And there just happened to be two Deathclaws hunting a little further out ... " His crimson saturation faded into something more fleshy and normal, but his body gestures suggested a tension still lingered. "Hancock had the bright idea of setting off the siren set up on a tower in the settlement. All we had to do after that was sneak away from the Deathclaws."

Fiona propped up onto her elbows. "Do you really think it will work?"

"Doubtless."

"What about your friends?"

"Preston said some Minutemen who were close by came. I'm assuming they've probably rallied up together and went to Tenpines Bluff. That's the closest Minutemen-aided encampment. I don't think they'd stay there long. It's _too_ close. Any stray baddie or mutie can follow 'em. But it'll be a good place to start looking in the morning."

Codsworth sauntered towards the ladder. He leaned carefully against the metal, paying special attention to rust spots as he was unwilling to ruin his black suit. It reminded Fiona of Rhys. "I would suggest the two of you get some sleep," he said matter-of-factly, nodding to the mattress. "It may very well be a long time before the opportunity will come again. I can keep watch and will alert you post-haste to any danger."

MacCready reached out slowly, touching Fiona's elbow with a gentle, apologetic smile. "It's not a bad idea. We might have to plunge right back into battle tomorrow. Better get some rest while we can."

Fiona found his hand, squeezing in acknowledgement. Then she turned to Codsworth. "What about you?"

A sheen of yellow gleamed behind his gray-blue eyes. Dimples punctuated his amusement. "I will sleep when I am _human_ , ha ha!"

* * *

Preston Garvey waited at Sanctuary Hills' exterior border with his men for as long as he could muster without pinning the target upon themselves. Gunning down the hapless mutants and Legionnaires who tripped through the blackened exhaust was one thing, but it was impossible to launch an attack into the fray with the smoke and pending nightfall. They had to be extra cautious when dealing with the ghouls, none of them willing to fire on Hancock by mistake.

The Goodneighbor mayor never showed. Many of their merry men hadn't. Cait, Curie, Piper, and Codsworth were all missing in action. Danse and Strong were the first to emerge and join the Minutemen's temporary encampment, the Brotherhood Elder's manufactured face stressed by the weight of worry lines. Nick Valentine gradually poked his way through the thicket. Dogmeat pranced at his heels, tail bristling and ears back.

They waited a good fifteen minutes before failing, fizzling communications and a line of resilient, advancing Legionnaires forced them into an unwanted retreat. A little coordination from Preston's army ensured the fall of those tailing Legion fighters with their horrid headdresses and bull-laden flags.

Hancock, MacCready, Codsworth, Cait, Piper, and Curie ... and the otherworldly ones: Sasha, Fiona, Rhys, and Vaughn ... They were still out there. It was possible they could all be dead. But for this very moment, with all the chaos unfolding, there was no choice but to fall back and hope for the best.

Lady Luck's good tidings promised Preston's crew safe passage. But the Commonwealth catered only to the survivalists. Those relying too heavily on four-lead clovers and rabbits' feet found themselves, too often, on the unfriendly end of a loaded gun.

By nightfall Preston led them into Tenpines Bluff. They had ample time to restock on provisions and rest their weary bones: not a soul followed behind their determined march once the initial enemy line was dispatched. But nobody knew for sure how well the Legion knew the area. Those flying the flag of the bull were nothing if not methodical strategists. Doubtlessly they'd sent out surveyors since their arrival to gain an accurate cartography of the land. Perhaps they were safe for now, but a possible social call was high on the list of probable events.

It was for that reason Preston, alongside two of his more renowned members, spoke to the settlers who called Tenpines Bluff home. They all knew something was going on - the explosions and smoke could be seen and heard effortlessly. At the notion of evacuation, only a few of them displayed any sort of ire. Most of the citizens had begun families. Safety was a priority. So when Preston informed them they would be heading to the Castle, he earned a favorable amount of agreement.

It was when he spoke of their transfer to the _Institute_ from the Castle where things got a little hectic.

"The Institute?!"

"But they're gone!"

"You can't expect us to go to those - those _**kidnappers**_!"

"What are you, working with them now?! Are you really going to betray the whole Commonwealth just like that?!"

"We trusted you!"

Nick puffed his cigarette with humored passiveness, leaning back on a ratty stool so that his back rested against a cared-for countertop. Dogmeat panted beside him, both her standing and sitting height easily bringing her to his knee. She was a purebred German Shepherd and easily the friendliest one he'd - or the _real_ Nick - had ever seen. They had a reputation for being viscious and unyielding: a description that fit the canine when she was in _battle_ but not when in the comfort of company.

He ran his cybernetic hand through her fur. Scratching lovingly behind her ear made the dog cock her head and _smile_ (a characteristic that made Nick laugh to this day). "You did good out there, pooch," he cooed with far more affection than a robot should have. "I missed ya, you know that? You and your master."

Danse couldn't bring himself to sit. Too tense to put his body at ease, the power armor-clad war dog stood with his huge metal-shielded arms crossed. At the mention of Dogmeat's 'master', Danse's lips formed a tight, thin line. Stormy eyes thrummed honest-to-goodness concern. Nothing described his edgy posture more accurately than 'soldier pulled from battle' or 'baseball player waiting to go back in the game'. He was restless.

Nick remembered seeing him the exact same way when Nora visited the Institute for the first time. "That dame was resilient, you know?" he informed the Elder, blowing a ring of smoke. "You could knock her down but not out."

The BoS leader shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I know that," he uttered after several seconds of stark silence. "It was her uncanny confidence and tenacity on the battlefield that drew my attention to her."

"Just that?" quipped the private eye, his inner machinations whirring. "Jarhead affection? Don't tell me that first date you two went on began with you asking to swap ammunition."

_"Oh man, did he ask her to polish his rifle?"_

Nick jerked slightly, turning his head at such an acute angle that it went entirely unnoticed by Danse. "And her _compassion_. I was her superior in the Brotherhood of Steel, Valentine. Her leader. In the end, she was the one _I_ was being mentored by."

Rubbing metal fingers against the fleshy bridge of his nose, Nick nodded. The shaking of his skull did little to ebb the deep unsettling sensation that roosted there. "She learned from the best."

Hearing Danse scoff or show _any_ kind of jocularity would take some getting used to. "You know that isn't true,"

"I don't know. I _do_ know she found your steadfast loyalty to your brethren alluring. Hell, MacCready saw her as a sister but even _he_ would outright refuse her is she proposed a stupid idea. As did I. Several times." The detective tapped ashes from his cigarette. He didn't notice how long it'd been since he raised it to his mouth and remedied the problem. "You never hesitated, no matter how bad the situation sounded. And I know you inspired her."

"How?"

"Do you know what she did after you up and left, Danse?" The Elder indicated a negative answer. "She talked to me about building the Institute back up. Rekindling her son's legacy from the ground up, going through the extra measures of involving the Commonwealth every step of the way. Nora was loyal to her people. Extremely so. Even when fighting for them meant losing it all."

Danse was dubious at best. "That _inspiration_ could have easily been drawn from Garvey. Or you."

"Maybe." He drew some of that intoxicating nectar into his rubberized lungs. Nick exhaled slowly to best enjoy the taste. "But I like to think you played a larger role than you think."

"He's certainly come a long way. Garvey, I mean." Actively seeking a change of subject by ignoring Nick's statement outright, Danse nodded in the Minutemen stand-in-general's direction. "Prior to the Institute's downfall, he was quite ... _meek_ , I suppose. Unwilling to take up the mantle. These two years without Nora to lean on have made him more imperturbable."

"He started coming around a little before she vanished. Your dame was planning on handing him back the general title - and all its responsibilities."

"Do you suppose he's ready for that level of commitment?"

Nick thought back to the Sanctuary Hills fight ... how, for a fleeting , heart-stopping moment, the black monster tearing up the scenery became Nora in all her pale glory ... how she'd gone soaring with one good hit from the Caesar ... Danse had all but flown after her, returning with vanquished featured and information that Red Rocket was destroyed, a hole being where it once stood, the possibility of Nora being thrown to its depths along with those taking shelter with her (Rhys, Piper, Cait, and Vaughn) ...

... And Nick recalled witnessing her prying her broken, bruised body from the Prydwen's wreckage, her perseverance overcoming the weakness of shock and shattered bones.

He had no doubt Nora was alive.

And if she was, so were the others. No doubt.

"I guess we'll see."

Danse's nod was slow. "I suppose we - " He stopped, drawling the last syllable out, forming it into a hiss. Half of his lips uplifted, exposing grit teeth. An arm flexed to his abdomen. Maybe he'd forgotten he was wounded. _Partially impaled_ was a truer statement. How he was standing now was beyond Nick. Humans had a typically low resilience to pain.

He had to pause for a moment to recollect that Danse was not, in fact, _human_.

"You should get that looked at," Nick waved to the Elder's abdomen. Danse wasn't bleeding majorly, but the dark red fluid was still seeping slowly from the injury site.

"Later, Valentine," grunted the taller man, standing firm and straight in spite of his wound. There was no way Caesar Lanius' sword struck a vital organ, otherwise Danse wouldn't be arguing his way out of this. He'd be on the _floor_. "There's more to worry about now."

"More to worry about than you're own health, Danse?" Valentine snorted. "You're as _stubborn_ as her. Won't do you any good taking a dirt nap."

"We've an army of Legionnaires possibly approaching us at any given moment and a number of civilians to evacuate." The Elder was back to being the stringent old toad he'd used to be. "Stopping to be cared for right now? That will only hinder us."

"That's the reason we're _here_. Stock up. Rest. Gather munitions. Lay out intel. _Take care of our goddamn injuries_." Nick dragged a metal finger down his bedraggled cheek. "I'm not saying get a goddamn _surgery_ , Danse. But at least get **stimped**. You're _human_ , after all."

Danse shifted uncomfortably.

The Synth detective chuckled. "I'm doing it too, huh? Alright, alright. Not _human_ , but a lot more human than I am. In _body_ at least." His subtle jab earned a sharp glare. Valentine's glowing yellow eyes lit up brighter. He beamed through unnaturally whitened teeth.

Preston broke from his speech. He stood before the two Synths from different generations, tugging down his old-world hat with the pinned-up lip. "I've issued an evacuation order to all Minutemen settlements that haven't already taken cover. Those civilians and personnel will be heading to the Castle tonight. But I'm having some trouble getting these folks to believe the Institute is nothing to be worried about anymore. Maybe they'll be convinced if you two back me up."

"What makes you say that?"

"They know you, Nick. You're the only Synth trusted by virtually the entire Commonwealth. And the Brotherhood has had a prevailing influence on those terrified of the Institute's wrongdoings. They looked up to you once, even if only a little and with mild fear. With our powers combined, it will be enough to reassure them."

"Well then ... " Nick snubbed the tobacco-filled paper cylinder out into an ashtray. Brushing dirt from his sleeves, the Synth stood. "Let's not keep the masses waiting, huh? And _Danse_ , the _injury_."

"After we talk to the people, Valentine," Danse relented, eyes ahead and focused, te corner of his lip twitching in a form of agitation.

* * *

Falling soundly asleep in the dim basement fell a lot more easier to them than Fiona expected. Their bodies were wearier than they gave off. MacCready slept like the dead, his arms loped limply about her waist, buzzsawing away. It was comforting to feel his body heat against her's. The notion of their 'spooning' becoming a casual thing caused her to redden.

Fiona wasn't aware of the time when she awoke - the basement was still alight courtesy of the oil lantern - but she could see Codsworth's faintly glowing eyes standing beneath the cellar doors, still attentive. The con artist gave a listen herself and was surprised at the dulled orchestra bleating from above.

There was something else.

A _humming_.

Prevalent now, Fiona suspected, because of the rousing quietness of their ordeal, the con artist listened closely. It didn't appear to be coming from the cellar, nor did it cascade in from above. Touching an ear to the cold concrete floor intensified the droll. Below them? Fiona drew back, rubbing sleepsand from her eyes.

"I hear it, as well," Codsworth's voice crackled to life. It would have startled her it she hadn't already been aware of his presence. The con artist gently preened MacCready's fingers free and stood. "It must have been going all night. Possibly longer. I thought perhaps it was a hidden generator, given the direction of these wires ... "

"Wires?" Fiona yawned, stretching wide. Every bone popped into place. As she rolled her arms down, her fingertips graced the ceiling a second time. Once more they touched strand upon strand of multi-colored wire. She hadn't given them much thought before with her intent to find Sasha, but now that her head was cleared (more or less), they traced their origin and destination.

Several came in from above, squeezing in through the cellar doors' cracks. It was safe to assume those were no longer active, considering the destruction of both the house that once proudly loomed directly above ground (now stripped to its foundation) and any generator that might have powered it. They connected to a metal plate in the room's center. Two smaller cords splintered off the main hub to a powered HAM radio and entertainment radio, both of which were shut off.

But another set of larger strands arrived from the _wall_. They ducked behind one of the self-made incomplete walls of concrete blocks. Fiona stepped there, holding her hands against the stone and listened. More humming. Louder this time.

Before she knew what she was doing, Fiona was ripping the blocks down.

"Miss Fiona, why are you - "

"Something's down there, Codsworth," was the firm answer.

She expected an argument, but the glint off his contact lenses suggested curiosity. Rather than berating her behavior and bringing it to a halt, Codsworth went to rousing MacCready. The mercenary groaned, rolling in his sleep, grunting, "Five more minutes ... "

His eyes suddenly snapped open, recalling that Codsworth was going to wake them up if danger loomed. Fiona didn't see him fly to his feet, sniper rifle in tow, but she did hear the Synth calm his rattled nerves. "Everything it quite all right, sir! I assure you!"

MacCready's rugged expression was far more tired than Fiona took into account. "Then why did you wake me up?" he mumbled remorsefully.

"Miss Fiona has found something rather interesting. It would appear that - "

With the final blocks out of place, Fiona found herself staring down a long tunnel. The wired found it down. Absolute blackness awaited them save for at the end, where the con artist could just barely make out the glow of a well-lit steel _something_.

" - there was a hidden passageway within our vicinity."

"A hidden ... " R.J. was completely awake now. He loomed over Fiona's shoulder, peering on down with widened eyes.

Fiona found a familiar itch rising in her gullet. Testing to see if his twitchy fingers indicated MacCready felt the same urge come on, she leaned into him lightly and asked, "Do you know what this means?"

Confirmation! Fire sparked his irises. "Oh yeah. It means **exploration** time."

* * *

Fiona hadn't been seeing things. The tunnel led them straight to a room that, though the ceiling was carved out of the same stone surrounding the cellar, the floor was forged from steel and kept very clean. Lights were tacked up along the cavernous roof, illuminating all that was to be seen ... which wasn't much.

Just a room with a few (inactive) computers to the right. But it was the elevator that caught their attention. The buttons blinked in rapid succession almost invitingly. The bundle of wide wires continued through a crack at the elevator's top, presumably cascading down the shaft.

MacCready shouldered his rifle, nudging Fiona to do the same. "We don't know what might be down there," he told her with that same edginess from before. "Could be Gen I Synths. Maybe Mirelurks, or feral ghouls or radroaches ... Or Raiders. Maybe traps. Just be on guard."

Codsworth shuffled fraughtly. "I'll just ... stand behind you."

"Yeah, you do that Codsbot." R.J. flashed him a grin. "You're a phenomenal healer. You just stay low and keep safe, alright? We'll take care of the rest."

It was a longer than normal elevator ride. Wherever they were going was burrowed deep within the earth. "This better not open up," Fiona began, tersely fingering her trigger, "to a damn magma pit or something. That would blow ass."

"Sounds like something straight out of Grognak," chuckled MacCready.

"Grognak?"

"Oh that's ... ," he sputtered, realization dawning. "That's right. You dunno who ... It's a comic series. Pre-war stuff. About a barbarian who saves the day and crap ... Fights against these awesome monsters and bad guys and ... " R.J. trailed off, fixing his gaze on her's. "Always saving the damsel, you know?" He placed roughened fingers on her shoulder, grinning. "Don't worry, you've got your own _personal_ barbarian right here."

"Barbarian, huh?" Her scarred eyebrow twitching, Fiona laughed into her hand. "I'm a hardly a damsel in distress, Mac. But I might have to test that _barbarian_ theory later." She winked at him. The way her voice teased the title so that it hung voluptuously in the air made MacCready's face flash burgundy.

No wonder Sasha tormented Rhys so much at Vault 81 and the Institute. It was _fun_ watching MacCready squirm.

But unlike the CEO, R.J. had no problem dishing out parting shots. "Well, you'd have to get tied up first to be properly _rescued_ ," he shot back, running his tongue over his lips for added effect. It worked. Fire combusted across Fiona's nose, singing white-hot heat into her eyes. "But I don't know if you'd be able to handle that, _little miss princess_."

She was somewhere between bristling irritation at his insinuation of incompetence and absolute adoration for his arrogance. Smirking widely, an air of snarkiness thickly-coated her return fire. "Oh my, you say that like it's supposed to be a _challenge_."

Observing him switch from good-fun-triple-x-flirting to grade-A-demasculation was too much. She set about laughing while he rolled over decent counter-attacks in his head.

"Can we **please** ," Codsworth blurted insistently, putting a hand their shoulders and forcing them to distance from one another, "keep this conversation G-rated? You are acting quite like hormonal teenagers. Please do remember that we are treading in unknown territory with god-knows-what dangers lie in wait!"

R.J. slowed his breathing. Fiona could see him staring from her peripheral vision. "We'll continue this _later_ ," he promised.

She wasn't going to allow him to have the last word. "If you think," Fiona bit, "you can keep it up for that long."

That dual-meaning was a direct-hit. The ex-Gunner had no option but to look away, plainly fearful of his own actions. If he meant to dwell on the issue in silence, there wouldn't be any time for him to do so. One more set of lights flit past them through the elevator shaft and the door _ding!_ -ed open.

R.J. didn't quite raise his sniper rifle to his face. Glancing around first to scan for immediate danger, he held the weapon in front of him and stepped carefully into the threshold. Fiona followed, lining her eyes with the iron sights. She took left. MacCready took right. Codsworth hung back, barely peeking his head around the elevator's entrance.

It was another small room like before except this one came complete with a steel ceiling. No way in or out save for the way theyd just gotten in. MacCready relaxed. "Clear!"

"Clear," Fiona echoed, lowering the laser rifle just so. Nothing. No monster. No asshole. Not a soul. It was eerily still save for the humming of a single computer. "This is it? Kind of a disappointment. I was expecting more."

MacCready tapped a key or two on the terminal. 'AT-TEC' flashed across the screen as well as an input box indicating the need for a password. He grunted disconcertion. "Well, there goes that ... "

"You can't hack?"

"Not everybody on Earth is a tech-wiz."

Both of them looked to Codsworth, who shrugged. "I may be a robot, but my basis of knowledge is more for homely needs than technological feats and engineering schematics." He noticed a smudge of dirt on his suit cuff, rubbed it off, and allowed his sight to drift upwards. "Although I must admit, it does not take a genius to notice a fake wall when they see one."

Codsworth's thin, long fingers pointed outwards. They followed it to the adjacent wall. Two vertical lines were etched into it, one on either side. The mercenary lay his temple upon its smooth, pristine surface. His eyebrows closed in on each other, contemplative. "There's that humming you both heard."

"But there's no button to open the wall ... " Grinding her teeth together, Fiona glared at the computer. "Which means we'll have to ... shit ... I can't hack."

"We'll just test passwords, then," the Synth butler mused, striding towards it. He leaned over, whistling something of a tune. "The worst it will do is lock us out for a few minutes, correct? That always appeared to be the routine of locked terminals in the Commonwealth. Give me some suggestions, and I will try."

MacCready was the first to issue a command. "Atom."

 _Click clack_ and a negative beep. "Incorrect password."

"Legion?"

"Nothing."

They ran down the list. Getting locked out six times gave them enough time to converge and mull over the possibilities.

"It appears to be five letters." Codsworth's fingers hovered over the keyboard. "And so far we've tested everything that has to do with the Children of Atom and Caesar's Legion."

Pacing back and forth, MacCready gave up on thinking to kick a wall instead. "Damn it!" he snarled, the hard wall refusing to cave under the ferocity of his blow.

Fiona touched her lips in concentration. Everything about the people who'd gone through amazing lengths to attack them had run its course ... everything from _Earth_ ... "What about stuff from Pandora? I mean, that was obviously Handsome Jack up there manhandling that Siren." Maybe not so obvious to MacCready and Codsworth.

"'Handsome Jack' won't fit the password bank. And 'Jack' is too short," Codsworth said.

"So is Helios, Hyperion, Pandora ... How about Siren?"

The Synth went to work, striking the 'enter' button with a little more gusto than necessary. He drew back with success glossing his previously meditative mien. "That did it. Jolly good show, Miss Fiona!"

Green text spidered across the black screen.

DOOR CONTROL

ENTRANCE LOGS  
!EVACUATION ORDER!

"Click on the logs," demanded MacCready.

Codsworth did so. A series of dates exposed themselves. The list was long - too long - and very recent. "Oh my ... "

"These are months ... weeks and _days_ before the reservoir bomb," breathed the mercenary, hot air wisping between clenched teeth. He hadn't exactly gone pale, but the distress level he gave off was over 9,000. "It's been in use since ... since ... "

"Since before Nora emerged from Vault 111." Codsworth pulled on his chin, rubbing the soft flesh beneath his mandible in worry. "But I saw not a soul leave, let alone _enter_ Sanctuary Hills after the bobs dropped. Perhaps a scavenger or two, but I had always chased them away before they could desecrate the homes."

"Preston never mentioned anything about people coming into the cellar here. Do you think he knew?"

"I highly doubt that, Mister MacCready. In Nora's absence, I assume he was constantly out and about. A general's work knows no end, even if he only intends for it to be a temporary fill-in job. The Minutemen would have been alerted to trespassers. However, considering the creation and usage of Stealth Boys by raiders and mercenaries such as the Gunners, it is entirely feasible somebody may have snuck in, unbeknownst to the settlement."

Fiona highlighter the third text option from the main menu and clicked. "What's this?"

!EVACUATION ORDER!

SEPTEMBER 28, 2290

IMPORTANT!

WITH THE PENDING ACTIVATION OF STAGE 1 AND THE EXPECTED RELEASE OF CODENAME 'VESSEL OF ATOM', ALL SCIENTISTS STATIONED WITHIN THE SANCTUARY HILLS HEADQUARTERS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO RELOCATE. PLEASE SPEAK WITH PROCTOR SCRIBE QUINLAN FOR REASSIGNMENT.

IN ACCORDANCE WITH PROCEDURE, ALL SUCCESSFUL B2 SUBJECTS WILL BE TRANSFERRED TO BASE C3. FAILED PROJECTS ARE TO BE TERMINATED.

AD VICTORIUM!  
\- SENTINEL RHYS

Fiona angled her chin, gawking comically. " _Rhys_? That, uh ... that doesn't make any sense."

"Not your Rhys, Fi," MacCready reassured her. "That title before the name is a Brotherhood of Steel rank ... which makes this whole thing equal parts disheartening and troubling." Teeth ground together in nervous anticipation and uncertain thoughts. "There was a BoS Knight named Rhys we met at the Cambridge police station. Snobby asshhh - _urgh_ \- douchebag. Quinlan rings a bell too. Thought they were dead. _Ohhhh_ I don't know if Danse the tin can's gonna be happy or have a Synth version of a heart attack."

"They're supposed to be dead?"

"They were on the Prydwen when it went down, so, _yea_. Leaves room for thought on who _else_ mighta survived the crash." Going by his stormcloud eyes, the hypothesis was probably pretty harrowing. "Oh _man_."

Fiona, changing the subject for fear the merc might grin his teeth to nubs, was scratching her head. "Vessel of Atom?"

She was met with shrugs all around. "Well we at least know three things. This place was used by the Children of Atom. A few Brotherhood of Steel soldiers have also utilized its space. And it would appear that we are alone and, therefore, freed from engaging in unnecessary combat. Thank _goodness_ ," sighed Codsworth.

"Four things," Fiona quipped. "We _also_ know that it's October."

MacCready blinked at her. "Really?"

"What? You know how long I've been clueless about the date?"

* * *

The wall opened into a laboratory littered with computers wiped clean of information. Fiona and MacCready swept through the rooms. Nobody was home: a fact that made things indefinitely easier. Every miniature technological lab held the exact same layout ... All save for two.

There was an area that looked a lot like a relay room similar to the one in the Institute. Maybe it worked ... once. But the oblong, huge machines lining the walls were smashed and destroyed.

Then there was the other room.

The first thing they noticed was the tall, cylindrical protrusion sitting dead center amongst the computers and wiring. Perhaps it was some kind of test tube designed to hold who-knew-what. It was shattered now. Whatever was in it was long gone, and Fiona flit her fingers across the trigger in case something very unfriendly was going to pop out a them.

A myriad of tubes fixed on the hard floor connected to the tube at different points. They all ended in needles, one in particular having a very large and painful-looking bore. Little puddles of blood formed about their sinister tips. MacCready issued a gasp, taking all steps to avoid coming near the unsavory mix of glass and needles, and Fiona had to giggle.

There was a wardrobe to their left. All of the drawers had been opened, turned out, and emptied of their contents. Nothing significant. There was a bloody fish hook. That was kind of odd.

"Looks like they were keeping something alive in here," Codsworth whispered, cupping a hand to his mouth in bewilderment. "How _unethical_."

"It's gone now," Mac stated the obvious.

"Well, let's just hope it doesn't have fangs n' claws." Touching her hat's brim, Fiona's gaze traveled restlessly. "The Commonwealth has too much of that skag shit."

"Skag shit? What the hell is a skag?"

"You come to Pandora, Mac, n' I'll show you."

Codsworth's fingers drifted across a terminal's dusty keyboard. "All of the terminals appear to be stripped clean of information. There is nothing here for us to observe, I dare say. Shall we depart? Preferably as quickly as possible?"

But R.J.'s eyes just happened to sway upwards. Something caught his eye. The hasty transition from perplexion to cold, dawning recognition was warning enough. He ambled to the wardrobe, stood on his tiptoes, swiped at an object hidden in the very back against the wall, tucked neatly out of sight ... rolled his hands over the perpetually smooth fabric with wide, troubled unsettled orbs of aqua, cheeks flashing the canonical ruby of rage.

What was so significant about a fedora? Granted, it looked pretty nice. Made from black suede and adorned with a single silver band, it wasn't quite Fiona's taste but she wouldn't mind adding it to her collection. "Nice hat. Gonna keep it, Macaroon? I'll take it if you're not. I don't think it'll look good on _you_."

Her playful jab was ignored. "This is Nora's."

"Mum's?" Codsworth stood to attention at once. "My word, why would it be in this wretched place?"

MacCready didn't need to explain. His eyes were joined by the Synth butler's and Fiona's. Together they scrutinized the giant, broken test tube, the needles ... the bloody, dainty _human_ footprints - half wet and fresh, half dry and staining - starting from the pile of shattered glass and meandering their way in an uneasy fashion from one spot to the next. They didn't notice it a second ago. It was easy to miss in the dim light. Now, under keen observation, they saw where they stopped at the wardrobe and, with harsher staring, saw the faint outlines of bloody fingerprints upon the fine mahogany wood ...

"Is this - is this where Mum has been the entire time?" An unsettling realization came crashing onto Codsworth. He breathed into his palm for an entirely different reason now. "Oh ... oh _my_ ... "

"All this time looking for her and she was right underneath Sanctuary Hills the whole ... time ... ?" MacCready was breathless, awestruck, _angry_. Crimson stretched to include his entire face. Fiona feared his blood vessels might burst. "In ... that tube, you think? Kept here like some experiment? WHY?!"

The con artist had no idea how to gauge his reaction, let alone unleash her own. "I don't ... " Vessel of Atom? The appearance of a Siren monster thing in the center of what was supposed to be Sanctuary Hills? Nora randomly popping up in thin air when the monster went poofskies? It didn't take long to put two and two - or in this case, three and three - together. But it didn't make any sense. Were MacCready and Codsworth arriving to the same conclusion? "Was that Nora out there?"

"Yeah - we - we definitely _saw_ her."

"No, I mean well yeah, I know that. But the _monster_? Do you think ... ?"

_Was that Nora? Did_ _**Nora** _ _kill Maya? But that was Jack's voice._

Yet its scream had sounded faintly womanly ...

His head shook. "No. That couldn't ... " His grip on the hat turned into a death vice. MacCready was unconsciously bending it out of shape. "I don't - that doesn't make any sense - "

"Heya, Mac?" Fiona dared to touch his shoulder. He flinched away as though branded with a hot iron.

Did his own actions irritate him? Because he was definitely seeing red all of a sudden. MacCready lashed out - not at Fiona, though the con artist recoiled for fear she might be next on the hit list. His fist smashed into the computer console. It sparked, buzzed. "FUCK." One more hit. " _FUCK_." Another. Fire erupted through the shattered screen. "FUCKING ATOM. FUCKING BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL. FUCKING _**DANSE**_!"

"Mister MacCready!" cried Codsworth. He made the mistake of trying to pull the mercenary away and wound up being shoved roughly into a wall.

Fiona joined him in the distant safety. MacCready was having his way with that damn computer console. He ripped the monitor free, _threw_ it onto the ground. It splintered into several sections, circuit boards sizzling with crackling flames that smoldered without more fuel to consume. R.J. stomped the pieces out until there was nothing left but busted bits of steel and plastic, effectively snuffing what was left of the fire (although that was _definitely_ not his intention).

"GOD _**FUCKING**_ DAMN IT!" he roared at the infernal trash heap of a computer. "YOU PIECE OF _SHIT_! IT WAS HIM, WASN'T IT?! COULDN'T FUCKING _**BEAR**_ THE THOUGHT OF LOSING HIS PRECIOUS GODDAMN _**BROTHERHOOD**_! TAKE IT OUT ON _**NORA**_?! WHAT THE ACTUAL COCKFUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU SHITTY ALUMINUM SOLDIER?!"

If Codsworth could recede into the wall and disappear, he would have in a heartbeat. MacCready was an absolute tornado. He ripped into every piece of technology left, disassembling everything and anything with the finesse of a man with a sledgehammer. Except he had _fists_ , no sledgehammer ...

"Miss Fiona?" whispered the butler, anxiously tweaking his moustache. "I am _horrified_ for my life."

"Go back outside, Codsbot," Fiona told him. "Go back into one of the labs. Just steer clear. Let me deal with him."

"Do you think he might hurt you?"

"Has he hurt a woman before?"

Codsworth gave that careful consideration. "Only those who fired upon us in the past. Raiders and the like."

"Then no, I don't think he'll hurt me." Fiona ushered him towards the door. The Synth went more than willingly. "Just, I dunno, distract yourself. And don't get lost, alright?"

The automatic entrance _whoosh_ ed shut behind him. Fiona locked it for good measure. She could only imagine MacCready working his rage into the rest of the facility and Codsworth, terrified, hiding in a corner somewhere and refusing to come out. What a mess.

The merc moved on to the test tube. What was left standing was demolished, glass splinters flicking halfway across the damn room. Angry fingers wrenched on the thick line leading from the tube to some kind of processing machine. Liquid _something_ splattered skyward from the action. Fiona's eyes widened. "Hey Mac - "

He wasn't hearing her. Grunting, R.J. calloused fingers ripped and pulled. The line simply would not give. He was, however, successfully pulling the attached centrifuge across the ground. Effortlessly. The protective outer layer of the tubing was stretching, ripping ... Fiona could see two smaller lines within it, differentiated with two separate colors. One was very dark and crust. Very _red_. Old blood? But the other stuff was sickly green -

"MAC!"

More pulling. More stretching. Further down the two the two IV-lines intermingled, merged into one. The resultant fluid was a pale violet: a soothing color but somehow _noxious_. It made Fiona uneasy.

"What in the hell _is_ that?" she mouthed. MacCready surrendered his attempts to destroy the wire. Still roaring, still _pissed_ beyond belief, the mercenary made his way to the centrifugal machine. Fiona jumped into his path, arms out to either side. "Hey, Mac, knock it off!"

"Get out of the way!" he snarled, shoulders squaring, teeth bared. Fiona refused to budge. Hardened fingers whipped across the con artist's left side, simultaneously grabbing hard and thrusting away. It was harsh. It was _painful_. "STEP. ASIDE."

Fiona was positively bristling, the sharp pinching of the skin beneath her ribs more infuriating than the way he'd shoved her. "I swear to GOD, MacCready!" growled she, snatching him by the elbow as he stormed past. Faded turquoise fingernails drove wrathfully into his flesh. "Will you CALM THE HELL DOWN for just a SECOND?!"

R.J. whipped away, drove his elbow backwards. He seemed to realize his error, halting the would-be attack before it could crash into Fiona's sternum. Maybe his eyes widened at the knowledge of his motions. Maybe they were just doing that because he was mad like a damn _bull_. But he continued on ranting, kept on drifting forth. "This is Danse's fault. The Brotherhood was BEHIND THIS. You SAW those TITLES!"

"I saw a bunch of names and ranks I couldn't give a rat's ass about!" Her hands found his back, reached around to his ribs, gripped him by the armpits. She dug in, pulled him back. MacCready fought her every step of the way. His hand was on the machine. The other was threatening to come crashing down on it. "Mac, QUIT this shit!"

She'd forgotten the swift agility he'd displayed when they ransacked the Old North Church. MacCready effortlessly ripped from her grasp. He spun, the balled fist prying open. It gathered a handful of Fiona's shirt. R.J. tugged it upwards and brought _her_ with it, much to Fiona's surprise. She was yanked from the ground, feet dangling so that her toes were the only things brushing against the white linoleum. An insurmountable heat gathered in her chest; Burned her eyes; Singed her ears; Threw fire into her lungs.

"Get. _Off_. Me," she growled warningly.

"Nearly two years of walking alongside that man," MacCready was hissing, bringing her face close to his. Hot breath poured into her face. It only served to aggravate her more. "TWO YEARS of working beside that ... that _machine_ in sheep's clothing. Pretending to be an ally. Baiting and switching us. Draggng Nora into the GODDAMN LION'S DEN. Do you have any _IDEA_ what that's like?! What that must have been like for her?!"

Her veins were a mix of fire and ice. Felix's face flashed before her mind's eye. Father figure. Betrayer. Fiona's voice was meek and tired. It couldn't have belonged to her. "I do."

R.J. stiffened. He'd hit a tender spot, though he knew not what it was. Rigid fingers slowly lowered the Vault Hunter to the ground. Expression bred between fear of his own fury and worry for ... something. Hurting her? Possibly. "I - I can't," he breathed.

Fiona touched his neck. It was smoldering. His carotid was bounding, pulsing against skin. "Mac?"

"This whole thing - I ... I'm sorry, Fi. I ... " Her soft, smooth fingers upon his face. So cold against the warmth. MacCready found himself leaning into it, magma to her glacial flesh. "He ... I bet that's what this all was. He used her. He - " Fire licked behind alabaster sclera. Acid singed his throat. "Nora was the only one Shaun allowed into the Institute. That wealth of technology, the only thing the Brotherhood of Steel ever coveted more than _their own wellbeing_. And ... _God_. How often he'd talked about getting back into Maxson's good graces. How hard he _tried_ to reconnect with them once they'd banished him. When the Prydwen went down he just _stopped_ caring."

"It was an adjustment period, wasn't it?" Fiona wasn't convinced by her own calming inquiry. "Big changes for the man who believed every word they said?" Why did that sound so much like Rhys when he arrived on Pandora? _The blind leading the blind?_ Handsome Jack was his hero. Lilith's last words resonated in her skull. "Maxson died in the crash. So did a lt of the BoS guys, right?"

"But Haylen lived. And Brandis. What about the others? The ones who hated Nora, and the Railroad, and the _Minutemen_? That dickshit Rhys lived. So did Quinlan. They reorganized, gave themselves new titles. And Danse is suddenly now the Elder. Haylen and the other soldiers and scientists don't seem the least bit concerned. Isn't that suspicious as hell?"

It did. Fiona couldn't question it. Her eyes were on his lips, so close she could taste them. "You said they were talking about an Alliance."

"Snake charmers," he grumbled. Had he drawn closer? R.J.'s hands were on her waist, holding taut. "Pitcher plants'll throw out enticing aromas to lure in insects."

"You could be wrong." Felix's gloating taunts, the suitcase in his grasp. "It might be sincere." Roshambo letting its only bullet fly. A cold ball of iron settled in her stomach. She bit her lip.

MacCready saw that gesture for something else, but the sensation uncoiling beneath her lungs as needy digits fumbled with her belt wasn't an unpleasant one. "I'm going to kill him," he told her. Their mouths brushed. _Electric_.

"Maybe you should talk to him first. The majority's on Danse's side. Nick, Piper ... you'll turn them all into enemies, Mac." Lava-like, sandpaper hands roved the cheeks of her ass.

"They'll understand when I tell them." Her tongue teased his lips. He swallowed it happily. Only when their chests began to burn did MacCready pull away, eyes half-lidded, mouth agape for deep heaving breaths. There was an odd, enticing nature about the saliva stream connecting them. The ex-Gunner broke it by pulling his head to her cheek. "If you keep doing things like that," he growled in her ear, "I can't be held accountable for my actions."

She wanted to laugh. Too caught up in the moment, Fiona crooned back, "I'll take my chances," and clamped down on his neck.

MacCready stirred with a rumbling groan. His lean body was deceptively strong, hefting Fiona into the air by her buttocks. Naked legs hitched about his waist and the con artist was aware of just how much attention was being granted to her. Back slamming into the wall, she was glad for two things: the facility's structural integrity, and the fact that she'd _locked_ the damn door.

* * *

_"Do you feel that?"_

Nick Valentine wasn't aware his false eyelids had closed. A familiar, unsettling twinge spiked pain through his mechanical brain. Sparks of white hot agony. He gripped his forehead and gasped. The cigarette fell from his fingers. "What is this?"

It was an unwelcome feeling. Probing. _Invasive_. Racing from limb to limb, synthetic organ to mainframe wiring was a cattle prod set at its highest voltage. The Synth's other appendage joined its partner in cradling his metal skull, attempt to assuage the liquid hot drill boring into his senses. He couldn't bring himself to scream - that was an action he rarely did. But his mouth hung open on steel hinges, diaphragm expelling unneeded oxygen from artificial air bags that couldn't process the gas exchange anyway.

 _"Oh yeah,"_ it quipped once more. Baleful chortling - sinister and otherworldly - shook the confined of his cranium. Nick would have been sure somebody was rattling his head in the fashion of a ragdoll. Would have been _convinced_ indefinitely, if not for the fact that he was completely alone outside the settlement. _"Oh yeaaaaaaaah, you feel that. Testing, testing, one two - "_

" **Stop it** ," commanded Valentine. Solid steel knuckles rapped against his temple. Like an old computer that wasn't working properly, maybe he just needed a couple of rough bumps to get this _thing_ out of his system. "Come on, Valentine. It's about time you stop having unprotected connections with strange computers in underground labs, don't you think? They should be tested first."

Nora would have shook her head and moaned. _"That's_ _ **SO**_ _not a mental image I need, Nick."_

 _"Not one I need either,_ _ **Detective**_ _Nicholas Valentine,"_ came the mirthlessly humored tone again. _"Though it provokes some serious afterthought. You got a dick, Nick? Ha! Naaah, robots never do, that's stupid."_

 _A virus. It must have been a virus_ _..._ No other explanation was valid. That damn lab down there ... whatever jammed itself into his metal bits ... He'd shrugged the voice heard then as some kind of mnemonic memory of Kellogg, resurging from the very high rough and tumble. But this wasn't -

 _"Kellogg? Who the hell names their kid Kellogg? I ain't no Frosted Flakes posterboy, Nick. The hell do you take me for - stop SQUIRMING, will ya? I'm tryin' to have a nice conversation with ya and you just - won't stop - THAT'S IT!"_ A seizure of surging electricity snapped his body into an unbreakable hold, twitching his digits and rocking his servos. _"See now, that's a good boy! I'd give you a treat if ya had a damn stomach. Maybe a lead breakfast. Yea? No? Oh hohoho hey, I think I can give ya somethin' after all. How about a knuckle sandwich?"_

"A what?" Nick queried, one moment too late. His metallic arm moved of its own accord. Clenching tight, it careened straight into his already roughened right cheek. Fingers unfurled here, gripping sheets of tattered Synthflesh and tearing a portion of it away (the shimmering endoskeleton, freshly exposed, was so bright and clean compared to the worn metal of his arm and thrashed neck). Valentine was both vividly grateful for the deactivation of his pain sensors a long time ago and mortified by the self-mutilation being wrought by his own carapace.

He fought the remotely controlled limb with its opposing twin, but the infernal _thing_ laughing in his cranial pocket forced lax the struggling digits. Now freed, it wrapped tight about his neck, squeezing with such force that Nick feared his robotic parts would crack and snap under the pressure.

_"Oh I just wanna_ _**strangle** _ _you. You know how long it's been since I've given something a good strangling? At LEAST six months! Or seven, I-I don't know, you kinda lose track of this shit when you're a freakin' A.I. in some dusty craphole of a planet. Are you - are you even choking? C'mon! You got lungs, don't ya need to breath?!"_

Later generations would be equipped with fully functioning tracheas, bronchi, bronchioles, alveoli ... be capable of trading carbon dioxide for oxygen ... speak through the vibration of wind against vocal cords ... Nick Valentine was created far too early for those developments. "Get off of my _neck_ , you viral _parasite_!"

 _"Ouch! I'm hurt, Nicky! Truly! You hurt me. Right_ _ **here**_ _!"_ The clamping hand both released his throat and _unleashed_ a fury upon Valentine's noggin. It struck fast, it struck hard. White noise flashed before his eyes. The yellow glow of his machine-crafted irises fizzled in and out, fading and brightening again and again. Snapping came loud and evident. Color spectrum enhancements turned everything gray on his right.

He couldn't bring himself to loosen the deathly grasp. It was no longer in his command.

Nick heard growling. Canine teeth lashed out, bit down, and _yanked_. Dogmeat was growling low, her mouth sealed upon the metal of his naked arm. He'd given the police-worthy dog credit before, but could not believe how _hard_ she was biting and how _tenacious_ the grip was. "Oh Dogmeat," praised the thankful Valentine. " _Good_ Dogmeat!"

 _"Again with this mutt? Get - GET!"_ His left arm raised, poised to strike ... and in a stroke of incredible luck, Nick was able to deviate the target from being Dogmeat to his _temple_.

Everything flashed bright white. The Synth detective could see naught but light, hear nothing but a high-pitched whistle. For an instant he feared he'd been shut down by the assault and wondered if this was what stasis was. But when color flickered across his visual registry with black outlines and defined shapes and the noise of Dogmeat's panting, the Commonwealth's uncanny silence at predawn, the chatter of distant settlers came pouring into his audio receptors, Valentine sighed in relief.

He blinked furiously. Color did not return to his right eye but at least he could see. Tweaking his nose as if to remove an itch (a trait he performed often and suspected was carried over from the _human_ Nick Valentine), the detective used his rubbery gray flesh-covered hand to rub behind Dogmeat's ear. That little dollop of affection made the German Shepherd release his other limb. Valentine let it slump limply to his side. fearful of what it might do if he tried to move it.

"Good girl," he whispered to the pooch. Dogmeat panted, tongue lolling. Valentine stared in silence for several minutes with nothing but love to dole out for the canine companion. When no more voices rang through his subconscious, he shook his head. "Maybe I got a virus from ... from ... "

Straining to recollect his thoughts, Nick found that he simply could not _remember_ where he encountered the voice for the first time. But he was so sure he'd _known_ before ...

"Is it erasing my memories?" the Synth suggested part fearfully. "Should get Doctor Amari to check it out. Or - or Rhys. He might be better, really." Amari was business-like. Professional. _Cold_. Rhys was far more friendly. They'd established a comfortable rivalry with one another in a very short time. He suddenly wished for Nora's presence. During those times he'd needed an extra hand in upgrading, she was more than adept at handling his unique programming - without tinkering with more than she needed to.

"Valentine!"

The manly voice called to his north. Nick glanced over his shoulder. Danse was approaching in his jumpsuit. A patch ran across the abdominal tear and his hood was pulled down to display his dark brown hair in all its messy glory. He walked with a slight gimp, favoring the side in which he'd been impaled earlier.

"Did they fix you up?" asked the detective. When Danse honored his question with a nod, Valentine chuckled. "Good, now you're more ragtag and'll fit in better with us."

"I've carried more than my fair share of scars while we've been venturing together," the Elder informed him. But he was ... smiling. "We are preparing to leave. One of Garvey's scouts detected movement to the west. They're carrying flags. Legion soldiers."

Nick tugged his chin. "Sounds like 'em. Settlers all packed?"

"Every last one of them. We will make for the Castle. If we keep the pace, we should be there by dusk."

For the first time since he'd gone outside to smoke, Valentine gazed upon the sky. Smoke still hung heavily above Sanctuary Hills, but it was breaking slowly, the fires smoldering away along with the clamor of dying battle. The dark plumes that lurked everywhere else were diminishing. Stars could be seen through the murk. By daylight, the sun and off-blue atmosphere would be visible as well.

Dogmeat barked for attention, pulling away from Nick's extended hand and bounding southward. Her nose struck out in the air. It huffed several times. Then she bounced, yipped again, excitedly looking to Nick and back again. That tail wagged fast enough to whip up some dust devils.

"She seems to have picked up a scent."

"I haven't seen her get that worked up in a while," Nick commented, watching the dog circle upon herself, bark, _jump_. Panting heavily, ears perked, large chocolate orbs sparking with intense _glee_? "Ya remember when she used to do that, Danse? Back when we all used to hang around Sanctuary?"

"When Nora was coming home." His voice was strained, his eyes pained, his face hopeful. Dogmeat perked indefinitely at the name, uttering little half-whine-half-barks. She pranced from forepaw to forepaw restlessly. "Do you suppose ... ?"

"Do you doubt her, Danse? Her ability to survive?"

"Not at all." For a lingering second, the Elder appeared just as restless as their four-legged companion. "If I allow Dogmeat to lead me - "

The virus. That taunting, ethereal laugh.

" _No_ ," demanded Valentine with a lot more passion than he'd intended. It surprised Danse into stunned silence. Nick cleared his throat. "I mean ... I understand your concern, Danse. I know you want to find her as soon as possible. Rectify the problems. I get that, I do ... but these people need you, too. Garvey is a good shot and a decent leader, but you've more military experience. They'll need that if the Legion comes knocking."

He was ready to argue. Valentine saw it in every etched wrinkle. But the Brotherhood leader couldn't fight with reason. "Then you follow Dogmeat. Her snout led you to Kellogg once, did it not?" Nick's affirmation drove Danse forward. "You follow Dogmeat. You find Nora. Bring her and our friends back safely. That's an order."

The Synth mock-saluted. " _Aye aye_ , Captain Tin Man." Danse cocked his head, glaring strangely. It was at that angle that he noted a bothersome tweak to his eyelid. "What are you going to do once you get to the Castle? Getting the civilians to safety is pragmatic, I get that. But that's not all for you, is it?"

"You read people far too well, Valentine."

"I'm a _detective_ , Danse."

"I plan on gathering my soldiers," he said simply. "We will raze through the land to meet with you. Annihilate any and all opposition that stands in our way until you are all within safe perimeters."

Nick looked to Tenpines Bluff's raggedy building. "Why not bring the Minutemen. Don't you trust them?"

"I do ... But they are plainsclothes soldiers. My men have power armor and superior, military-crafted weaponry."

"You're getting that air of superiority about you again, Danse. _Careful_ with that."

"You can't deny truth, Valentine. The Minutemen may have reorganized into a more formidable unit of armed men, but they are far from the best of the best. They couldn't hold their own in Quincy, lost Concord, and were chased from the Castle by a Mirelurk Queen and her brood. The current settlements were routinely attacked by raiders, Super Mutants, and mutated creatures. My men have stared down _Behemoths_ without breaking a sweat."

Valentine expressed his disapproval with a frown. Dogmeat continued to bark. "They did pretty damn well back _there_ ," he snapped, jerking his head towards Sanctuary Hills. "And I recall your armor not doing a _goddamn_ thing against Lanius."

"They were under cover of night and smoke, and I was ill-prepared." Danse noted Nick's rousing irritation and sighed, raising his hands defensively. "Understand my reasoning, Valentine. Garvey is a good man. His people are pure of heart and intention - that has _not_ gone unnoticed by me. But you've heard the stories of Caesar's Legion and the two battles of Hoover Dam. These are not weekend soldiers. They're trained _gladiators_ with self-sacrifice and battle strategy beaten - both literally and metaphorically - into their heads. And you have to admit that the Commonwealth settlers have far more trust in them than they do the Brotherhood of Steel, even if we _have_ reformed. Who do you think they would prefer standing guard over them while they shelter in the Institute? Who do you think they would rather have _dying_ in the fields above?"

"That's ... a rather valid point. I do hope you don't actually intend to have your men _dying_ , however."

"With every battle, we run the risk of getting killed, Valentine." His mouth creased into a frown. "It's a possibility we've been prepared for ever since we enlisted. But I'll do my part to ensure my men's safety. I want everybody to return safely."

A humored thought crossed Nick's artificially intelligent mind. "You should bring Strong with you," he laughed. The Super Mutant was nowhere near them, lest he would have been complaining up a storm. "I'm sure he'd _adore_ working alongside you. And he's an absolute brute on the field."

"I ... ," Danse stammered, shifting uneasily. "I don't think that would be ... _advisable_."

"And why not?"

"He is ... well, he's ... "

"A mutant? I thought you were turning over a new leaf, Danse? Giving everybody a chance?"

"It doesn't happen _overnight_ , Valentine. Do you realize how long it took me to get used to having you within our company? Let alone Hancock, Codsworth and ... and Curie."

Nick barked again. "I seem to recall you threatening to take her apart piece by piece and harvest her technology," he chimed, the gritty notion laced with amused sentiment. "And she was very _eager_ to be a benefit to research."

"Heh," laughed Danse weakly. He was more ashamed than anything else. "I certainly have, ah, left quite the impression of a stalwart ... a stalwart - "

" _Dick_."

" - yes ... a stalwart dick."

"Yes. Yes you have."

"I'm working on changing that, Valentine."

"I know you are, Danse." Dogmeat's transition from bark to growl surprised the detective into watching her. He'd almost jumped. "I think if I delay this any more, Dogmeat is going to rip my arm off trying to drag me with her. Tell Preston I'll meet up with them. And you keep an eye on everybody, _Elder_ Dick."

"I will do so ... Detective ... _Toaster_."

Snort. "That was good, Danse. Not so effective because you're a Synth too. It could be worse. At least it isn't Crumble-Bot 3000."

He was thankful to get away in the end. Following Dogmeat over the winding hills of the Commonwealth's war-torn landscape, abused from centuries of radiation, gunshots, explosion, and spilled blood, Valentine was secretly afraid ... Afraid what might have befallen him and those in his company should the virus take hold of his body once more - maybe int he dead of night when everybody slept or in the thicket of battle with a gun in his possessed hand ... Though Nick's determination to find Nora - and thereby, Rhys and the others - was noble and in honest concern for her/their safety, he also knew the Minutemen general would be able to rid him of whatever was plaguing his circuitry.

* * *

They were milk-fed, lazy, and satisfied. Fiona would have adored nothing more than to lay there all day with MacCready's half-clothed body atop of her own, but if they lounged around any longer, nothing would get done. And sooner or later Codsworth would come knocking. That would be ... awkward.

She'd rolled him off. He fell easily, so languished by their own fevered ambitions that both his strength and anger had been vanquished. The goofy grin pressing beyond his stubbled cheeks and chin elicited a giggle from Fiona's throat. She was unreasonable parched. Surely they hadn't made much noise during their antics. It had been largely quiet and passionate, harsh gasps and fierce nips. But _damn_ , her mouth felt _dry_.

He ambled slothfully on the floor, thankfully far away from broken glass shards and sharpened bits of broken computer. Fiona slid on her pants, pausing long enough to nudge his limp form with the heel of her bare foot. "Get up, Mac."

"Need help," he thrummed. His hand reached expectantly.

Eyes rolled. "Nope." A sharper prod into his ribs. He groaned. " _Up_. Codsworth's probably worried sick."

"He'll be fiiiiiine." But he complied, pressing himself up with exaggerated strain. "Thirty-three minutes ... A new record."

She barked a harsh laugh. "You timed it?"

"A good man always seeks to improve himself," R.J. winked.

"I see. So what was your old record, ten seconds?"

"Ouch."

Fiona threw his undershirt over. It was the only piece of clothing he'd lost in the tumult. Amazing. Somehow he'd managed to keep his hat on. There were several times she was sure it would go flying off. "Get dressed."

MacCready drew a finger across his bare chest. "You sure you don't wanna see for a little while longer?" he murred enticingly.

"Ohhhh, I know I'll be seeing it later," she teased. Her own tensions were evaporated. Gone were the disturbing memories. MacCready's statement of murderous desires hung as distant background noise. But she could not forget the centrifuge ... and that oddly violet fluid pouring into it through an IV-line.

Fiona stepped into her shoes and strode towards the machine. Figuring out how to open it took her about a minute. It wasn't so much a centrifuge as it was a device used to collect the purple-ish liquid into test tubes, designed to fill one, cap it, spin to an empty one, fill again, cap again, spin again ...

Only one vial left. Lifting it to eye level with painstaking care, Fiona swished the mysterious serum about. There was a very faint glow to the glass-encased material.

MacCready was behind her, looking over her shoulder - and, she noted with a slight warmth to her chest, resting his chin there in comfort. "What is it?"

"I was trying to point it out to you earlier," she told him. "It was in that tube. The one you tried ripping out." Recollecting the red-encrusted line, Fiona added, "I think it's mixed with blood?"

He stared for a bit. Carefully procuring it from her loosened grip, R.J. slid it into one of the many supply pockets adorning his legs. "Maybe there's something to it," he said. "We'll get it checked out at the Institute. I'm sure the eggheads'll love running tests on _something_."

A gentle knocking at the locked mechanical door caused them both to jump. "Mister MacCready? Miss Fiona? Are you alright? It's been quite some time."

MacCready grinned, whispering in her ear, "Yes, yes it was."

"Oh my _god_ , you're one _cocky_ son of a bitch," Fiona laughed/coughed. On a higher note, she called, "We're okay, Codsworth! Be out in a jiff!"

"Fantastic! Because, you see, I seem to have discovered another elevator."

* * *

He wasn't joking.

There was another elevator, hidden behind another secret wall, with yet another computer terminal logging entrances and exits. This one saw a lot less thru traffic. Similar to the last information-filled terminal they'd found, this one also had an evacuation order.

"Where do you think it goes?" Fiona asked.

"Well," MacCready stated, "the computer memo _did_ mention a second basement level, right?" He eyed Codsworth, somewhat concerned. "You didn't happen to explore down there, did you?"

"My heaven's, no!" yelped the Synth butler disparagedly. " _Lord_ no! I value my newfound flesh a little too much to throw it away in some fruitless, lonesome expedition when I cannot defend myself adequately! No no, I simply waited _quite_ patiently for you both. Fiona was quite intent on calming you down, sir."

His brow raised. " _Was_ she now?"

"Yes indeed! And I believe she did quite the job, did she not?"

"Yes," R.J. grinned knowingly. Fiona smirked. "Yes she did."

"You appear much _calmer_ now, sir! I'm thankful. You were absolutely _horrendous_ in that room. For an absolutely excellent reason, I assure you, but terrifying nonetheless! However did you pull off such a feat, Miss Fiona? I was beginning to fear there would be no quieting his rage!"

The ex-Gunner coughed into his hand. Fiona stifled a laugh. "A magician never reveals her secrets, Codsbot."

"Oh, but I insist!" Hands clapped together, fingers folding between each other. Codsworth's unassuming expression was all the semblance of innocent obliviousness. "I may need to know of this tactic if he were to feel so ill-mannered in my company again."

"I - uh - don't, ah, think you'd wanna do what was done," the woman entered into full-on laughing.

The poor Synth looked so confused. "I don't understand. Why would I not?"

"It's just - oh man - come on, Codsworth!" She grabbed him by the shoulders, steered him to the elevator, and slapped the button to call for it. "Same deal as before, right?"

"Right." MacCready sidled up next to them, sniper rifle comfortable in his hands. "It's an unchecked floor. That evacuation notice said something about experimental subjects and what have you. So ... we don't know what the hell is down there. Look alive."

"But - I - why is my question unanswered, I don't understand - "

The elevator came and he was pulled inside it before given the chance to finish his complaint.

* * *

Laboratories, laboratories, laboratories. This place was chock full of them.

The rooms were bigger this time around, but the general layout was similar to the mundane ones on level B1. Desks lined with computers. Now-empty filing cabinets. Writing materials and empty clipboards. It was all very boring and FIona would have been content for it to remain like that.

"Holy shit," MacCready murmured, eyes wide, voice unsteady.

But of course, nothing could ever be simple.

The evacuation notice did, after all, talk about _experiments_. Oh boy, did they.

There were glass cylinders, approximately four for each room. They were as big as the one upstairs that presumably held Nora, hooked to as many tubes and wires as her's had been, if not more. Unlike Nora's, however, they were intact. Some were filled with a nasty, viscous fluid (the color was never completely the same but always remained in a similar turquoise spectrum_. Some were entirely vacant - nothing but air. And others ... others were ... _occupied_.

Those ... _things_ ... had been alive once. Heart monitors hooked to the machines probably thumped with life, irregular electrocardiograms, unnatural pulses from extremely unnatural beings. Once ... They were still now. Flatline. And that was all well and good. If they'd been in hibernation or something that wasn't _dead_ , Fiona might be in legitimate enough fear for her life to take off running to the elevator and zip through the hellish Sanctuary Hills, never to be seen again.

They were ... they were _monsters_. Creatures of different shapes and sizes. Most with claws. Several with glowing skin, many more baring hues that weren't right. Fangs. Eyes with slit pupils. Some may have been Super Mutants, going by their size and bulky exterior. Others were bugs - hideously mutated but somewhat familiar. She recognized the boatflies from their journey to find Savage's egg. Others looked like giant mosquitos or dragonflies. None of them probably looked right to begin with. But something ... something _changed_ them, made them look _off_. Larger probisci. Fiercer teeth. HUGE wings ...

Some beasts had been feral ghouls, all tattered flesh and blackened eyes. Others ... others were _human_. **Were**. Not anymore. Not after what had been done to them.

"My word," Codsworth whispered, voice so low and muted that one had to be straining to actually hear him. "What ... is this? Why would ... why would somebody _do_ this?"

"Goddamn _Brotherhood_ ," snarled MacCready, but he was too shocked to be angry, too mortified to be fuelled by rage. "Goddamn _Danse_. He's got a lot to answer for."

"But sir ... The Brotherhood of Steel has always seen mutations as abominations to be wiped clean from the Earth. Surely this cannot be their handiwork."

That plain statement was enough to make Fiona reconsider MacCready's earlier determination to murder the Elder in cold blood. If the faction clad in power armor was so against forced evolution, why would they go to lengths to _create_ them?

"You can't deny what was written in that Memo, Codsworth," replied MacCready, but his resolve felt as though it were falling under his own question. "You can't."

She didn't think herself capable of compassion for these _monsters_ , but Fiona found herself uttering, "These poor things ... "

"Look around, see if you can find anything. Looks like these muties are long dead, so we don't have anything to deal with. But be armed. And stay safe. You don't know if something ... stuck around." MacCready found that ideology unsavory. He swallowed hard. "I know it's improbably, but maybe they got messy. Maybe they ... left something behind."

Like level B1, these computers were also wiped clean. No password protection on any of them, but it wasn't necessary to begin with. No information. No tiny little tidbits. _Nothing_. MacCready gave one a hearty, irate slap. It blipped and died.

Codsworth was trying his hand with more terminals but was quickly reaching the same conclusion R.J. had. Fiona, rather than attempting her luck with the technological wonders of the modern world (man how she _hated_ computers now), found herself rummaging through cabinets and drawers. She found several useful things - flip lighters, a switchblade, an empty syringe - but nothing pertinent to their ongoing investigation until she came to the very last desk in the very last room and found one, two, _three_ locked drawers.

Thank god for bobby pins.

Contestant number one was a dud. Empty. She feared the others would be, too.

But the second drawer held some kind of ... floppy disk? Fiona grabbed it, waved it in the air. "What is this?"

It was Codsworth who nabbed it. He rolled it over and over between his hands. "It is a holodisk, ma'am. They are storage units able to transfer information from one computer to the next, or to simply record voice messages."

She thought of Nakeyama's I.D. drive, so rudimentarily jabbed into Rhys' head port. (Fiona hadn't worried about him then, but thinking back on it, she sure as shit felt _bad_ for him now. That must have hurt.) "Like a ... a drive? Or an ECHO?"

"I ... don't understand what an ECHO is, Miss Fiona, but I will take your word for it and say, 'yes'." MacCready gathered in. They surrounded a nearby terminal as Codsworth uploaded the holodisk into it.

Data and words flung themselves across the screen.

LOG: FEBRUARY 1, 2288  
LOG: MARCH 12, 2289

LOG: MAY 24, 2290

LOG: SEPTEMBER 14, 2290  
LOG: SEPTEMBER 21, 2290  
SUBJECT: SCARLET

Codsworth went through them one by one.

LOG: FEBRUARY 1, 2288

SUCCESS!  
ONE NORA GILLESPIE WAS CAPTURED BY THE CHILDREN OF ATOM AT THE BOSTON AIRSTRIP AS OF THIS MORNING. SHE WAS TRANSFERRED HERE WITHOUT INCIDENCE - A TEDIOUS TASK, CONSIDERING THE MINUTEMEN PATROLLING ABOVE. IDIOTS.

WE'VE BEGUN RESEARCH ON HER DNA. IT'S SO UNUSUAL THAT HER'S IS ABLE TO MUTATE IN ACCORDANCE WITH RADIATION WHILE OTHERS ARE SUBJECT TO DEATH AND TRANSFORMATION INTO THOSE HIDEOUS GHOULS. WITH TIME, WE MAY BE ABLE TO CONCOCT A SERUM THAT WILL ALLOW OUR SOLDIERS TO BE ABLE TO WALK THROUGH THE GLOWING SEA AND OTHER IRRADIATED LOCATIONS WITHOUT THE NEED FOR HAZMAT SUITS. PERHAPS WE CAN CURE OUR MEN SO STRICKEN WITH RADIATION POISONING THAT RADAWAY HOLDS THEY ARE NO LONGER ABLE TO FUNCTION NORMALLY.

I'M SURE THE CHILDREN OF ATOM WOULD BLOW A FUSE IF THEY KNEW WE WERE LOOKING FOR A CURE FOR RADIATION, A WAY TO BECOME IMMUNE TO IT, NOT A WAY TO ENHANCE IT. BARBARIANS. THAT IS WHY THEY AREN'T ALLOWED IN HERE. 'TOP ATOM RESEARCH' WE TELL THEM. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THE ELDER INSISTS ON KEEPING THEM AROUND.

HE'S LIED TO THEM TO GAIN THEIR LOYALTY. CLAIMED WE ARE WORKING UNDER ATOM'S GOOD GRACES. IT WAS ENOUGH FOR THEM.

\- SCRIBE PROCTOR QUINLAN

"This jackass again," MacCready growled.

LOG: MARCH 12, 2289

THOSE FOOLS ABOVE STILL HAVE NO IDEA. MORONS.

NORA'S DNA IS INCREDIBLY RESILIENT ... AND UNLIKE ANYTHING WE HAVE EVER SEEN. SEVERAL RIBOSOMES DON'T MATCH THOSE FOUND IN ORDINARY HUMANS. THE AMINO ACID COMBINATION IS UNNATURAL. FOR THAT REASON, OUR ILL SUBJECTS NEVER REACTED TO INJECTIONS OF CREATED SERUMS FORMED FROM HER BLOOD. IF ANYTHING THEY SEEMED TO GET SICKER PRIOR TO TERMINATION.

WE MANAGED TO PROCURE INFORMATION FROM THE INSTITUTE'S DATABASE WHILE INCOGNITO. SHAUN GILLESPIE'S DNA INFORMATION HAPPENED TO BE STORED - WHAT LUCK! ALMOST COMPLETELY SIMILAR IN STRUCTURE WITH JUST ENOUGH DIFFERENCES IN THE MITOCHONDRIAL DNA TO RAISE ALARM. WAS HE TRULY HER SON? SOMETHING DOESN'T SEEM RIGHT. HAS NORA'S BLOOD MUTATED ENOUGH TO SEEM NOT GENETICALLY RELATED TO HIM, OR IS IT SOMETHING ELSE?

FURTHER RESEARCH IS REQUIRED.

THE ELDER RECEIVED REPORTS FROM HIS SCOUTS THIS AFTERNOON ABOUT A MILITARY FACTION APPROACHING FROM THE WEST. OUR DEFENSES ARE ON HIGH, ALTHOUGH THE STRANGERS ARE TOO FAR OUT TO BE OF ANY TROUBLE RIGHT NOW. WE MUST NOT BECOME COMPLACENT.

\- SCRIBE PROCTOR QUINLAN

LOG: MAY 24, 2290

UNBELIEVABLE.

TWO YEARS SINCE WE'VE BEGUN, AND WE HAVE NOT COME ANY CLOSER TO FINDING A POTENTIAL CURE. ONLY MORE QUESTIONS AND NO ANSWERS TO SHOW FOR THEM.

NORA GILLESPIE IS HUMAN. MOSTLY. THERE IS A MUTATION ABOUT HER THAT SETS HER APART FROM ORDINARY PEOPLE OF THE CURRENT TIME PERIOD. PERHAPS IT ISN'T HER THAT CHANGED. PERHAPS WE AS A SPECIES HAVE EVOLVED SINCE THE BOMBS FELL 200 YEARS AGO. I WOULD LIKE TO BELIEVE THAT, TRULY. BUT HER BLOOD IS COMPLETELY INCOMPATABLE WITH THAT OF OUR CURRENT SOCIETY.

OUR RESEARCH HAS TAKEN TWO TURNS I'M NOT ENTIRELY PROUD OF.

IN AN ATTEMPT TO CREATE SOMETHING WORTHWHILE, SOMETHING THAT WILL HELP ALTER THE FUTURE FOR THE BETTER, THE ELDER HAS COMMANDED US TO BREAK PROTOCAL AND BEGUN BONDING HER BLOOD TO THE FORCED EVOLUTIONARY VIRUS. PERHAPS THE FUSING OF ENZYMES WILL BIRTH A CURE. MAYBE. MAYBE WE WERE LOOKING THE WRONG WAY ON THIS.

BUT THE ELDER HAS BEEN SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME WITH THE CHILDREN OF ATOM. I FEAR HIS MIND IS TURNING, CHANGING. HE SEEMS LESS INVESTED IN SEEKING AN ACTUAL CURE AND MORE INTENT ON DISCOVERING ... SOME KIND OF WEAPONIZED BIOLOGY. THIS STANDS AGAINST EVERYTHING WE HAVE BEEN TAUGHT.

AND THEN THERE IS THAT WOMAN. YVETTE.

"Yvette?" Fiona jerked involuntarily at the name. "Why is her name in here?"

"Rhys said she went traitor, didn't he?" MacCready asked.

"Yeah, but this log is ... six months old."

HER CLAIM TO FAME WAS PROCLOMATION SHE'D ARRIVED FROM A DIFFERENT PLANET. A DIFFERENT DIMENSION IN TIME. HAILING FROM A MEGA-CORPORATION DEVOTED TO THE RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT MEANT TO BRING FORTH A BETTER WORLD. OF COURSE THIS WAS MET WITH SKEPTICISM UNTIL WE RAN DNA CHECKS ON HER. SHE'S BEEN EXPOSED TO AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ATMOSPHERE. THERE ARE HUGE DIFFERENCES IN THE COMPONENTS OF HER BLOOD AND OUR'S.

IF SHE DIDN'T PRESENT THAT ... _OBJECT_ AS A PEACE OFFERING, SHE LIKELY WOULD HAVE BEEN GUNNED DOWN ON THE SPOT FOR INFERIORITY. AN ECHO COMM, SHE CALLED IT. THE ELDER HAS US RUN THROUGH IT. INFORMATION UNLIKE ANY I HAVE EVER SEEN, COMPLETE WITH VIDEO FEEDS TO MAKE A MAJORITY OF US INTO BELIEVERS. A SUBSPECIES CALLED SIRENS, CAPABLE OF INCREDIBLE FEATS. RECORDS OF A GENETIC CODE REMARKABLY SIMILAR TO WHAT WE DISCOVERED HIDDEN IN NORA'S DNA. AUDIO FROM A HYPERION EXPERIMENT - AN ATTEMPT TO RECREATE ARTIFICIAL SIRENS FROM THE BLOOD OF ONE SUBJECT RYS-2050. ALL OF WHICH ENDED IN FAILURE.

YVETTE CLAIMS NORA GILLESPIE HOLDS BLOOD RELATIONS - IS DIRECT OFFSPRING - TO A KNOWN SIREN FROM A HOSTILE PLANET CALLED PANDORA. I FAIL TO SEE THE CONNECTION. NORA HOLDS NO SPECIAL POWERS. BUT HER INCREASED RESISTANCE TO RADIATION AND TENDENCY TO QUICKLY MUTATE TRAITS THAT WOULD TAKE OTHER SPECIES CENTURIES TO DEVELOPE LEAVES ME WONDERING.

IT'S A SHAME NO RECORD OF RYS-2050'S DNA REMAINS ON FILE. I WOULD HAVE ADORED TO RUN IT AGAINST NORA'S DNA TO CHECK FOR SIMILARITIES.

ACCORDING TO THE HYPERION INFORMATION, COMMON LORE ON SIRENS DICTATES THAT THEY ARE FEMALE 95.9% OF THE TIME AND THE GENETIC CODE FOR THEM IS PREVALENT AMONG FEMALE OFFSPRING. YVETTE EXPLAINED THAT IS WHY HYPERION'S EXPERIMENT WAS A HUGE FAILURE.

WITH THAT KNOWLEDGE, WE'VE BEGUN AN EXPERIMENT OF OUR OWN. ARTIFICIAL INSEMINATION. ATTEMPTING TO IMPREGNATE OUR CAPTIVE IN ORDER TO SEE IF A FEMALE CHILD WILL PRODUCE A SO-CALLED SIREN. WE'VE LOST SEVERAL MEMBERS WHO FOUND THE PROJECT BOTH DISHEARTENING AND AGAINST THEIR MORAL CODE. I AM PARTIALLY WITH THEM, BUT MY LOYALTY LIES TO THE ELDER. THOSE ATTEMPTING TO LEAVE US WERE DISPATCHED ON THE ELDER'S ORDERS.

THE ELDER DEMANDED FURTHER PROOF FROM YVETTE, AND SHE PROMISED IT. SHE LEFT ON THE SAME VESSEL SHE'D ARRIVED ON - SOME KIND OF AN ESCAPE POD MODIFIED TO TRAVEL THROUGH SPACE. WE WATCHED HER GO. AND WE SAW HER FRIEND: A BLUE-HAIRED WOMAN WITH UNIQUE MARKS ALONG ONE ARM. SHE MUST HAVE HIDDEN THE MOMENT THEY BOTH ARRIVED HERE.

WE WEREN'T SURE WHAT EXACTLY IT WAS THAT WE WITNESSED THEN. THE WOMAN'S ARM GLOWED AND A BALL OF BLACK ENERGY MATERIALIZED IN PLAIN VIEW. IT SWALLOWED THEM BOTH AND THEY WERE GONE. ONLY AFTER SEVERAL HOURS OF CONFUSED RAMBLING AND PIECING TOGETHER INFORMATION DID WE COME TO REALIZE THAT WE HAD JUST WITNESSED THE ACTUAL POWERS OF A SIREN. YVETTE HELD OUT ON US BY KEEPING HER FRIEND A SECRET. SHE WOULD PAY FOR THAT.

THE ELDER HAS BEGUN TO ALLOW CHILDREN OF ATOM ACOLYTES TO ENTER THE PREMISES. I FIND IT DISTASTEFUL.

THE STRANGE MILITARY FACTION IS CLOSER NOW.

\- PROCTOR SCRIBE QUINLAN

Fiona stared at the last few paragraphs with widened eyes. Blue hair. Siren. Maya? "No fucking way."

She didn't know what to make of the information pertaining to a Hyperion experiment involving Sirens. She'd known about Handsome Jack's daughter through Rhys. Angel was responsible for her mother's death, kept under lock and key with stringent control, force-fed eridium to keep her strong (and, inadvertently, forcing her to depend on it to survive). Jack manipulated her into tricking the first Vault Hunters. And during the Hyperion war, she'd revolted and died so that Handsome Jack would fall.

So really, an experiment on Sirens didn't seem all that new.

So why the nagging sensation pricking the back of her brain? She'd seen something that set off an alarm. What was it?

LOG: SEPTEMBER 14, 2290

YVETTE FINALLY RETURNED. WE FEARED SHE HAD ABANDONNED US, KNOWING WHAT AWAITED HER WHEN SHE CAME BACK. POOR LITTLE INFIDEL. SHE HAD NO IDEA.

THAT SIREN CAME AS WELL. WE WERE ABLE TO WITNESS HER ARRIVAL THIS TIME, AND SUCCESSFULLY SUBDUED AND CAPTURED HER BEFORE SHE COULD ESCAPE.

YVETTE PRESENTED US WITH SOME KIND OF COMPUTER DRIVE HOLDING PERTINENT DATA. IT WASN'T BUILD TO FIT OUT COMPUTERS, SO WE WILL HAVE TO CREATE AN ADAPTER TO MAKE IT WORK. SHE BROUGHT WITH HER ONE OTHER ITEM. PRIOR TO HER EARLIER DEPARTURE, YVETTE WAS PRESENT FOR THE BEGINNING OF OUR NORA PROJECT. THE ITEM SHE GAVE US ... WELL, I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHERE SHE OBTAINED THE SEMEN SAMPLE. I'M ALSO NOT ENTIRELY POSITIVE I WANT TO KNOW. BUT CONSIDERING ITS DONOR, WE ARE HOPEFUL FOR A POSITIVE TURNAROUND.

WHAT KIND OF A NAME IS HANDSOME JACK? REALLY?

OUR ATTEMPTS TO IMPREGNATE NORA GILLESPIE HAVE ALL FAILED. NO SPERM SAMPLE WAS COMPATABLE. SHE WOULD BECOME PREGNANT, BUT ONLY BRIEFLY. FETAL VITALS WOULD DISINTERGATE IN TWO DAYS. MISCARRIAGE FOLLOWED WITHIN A WEEK EVERY TIME. MAYBE NOW ...

FOR HER TROUBLE, YVETTE WAS SIEZED AND FORCIBLY INJECTED WITH OUR MODIFIED FEV SERUM AS PUNISHMENT FOR WITHOLDING INFORMATION IN KEEPING HER 'FRIEND' A SECRET. SHE IS CURRENTLY IN A HOLDING CELL FOR SAFEKEEPING AND OBSERVATION.

I HAVE DISCOVERED THE TRUTHFUL REASONING FOR THE ELDER'S DEMANDS TO CREATE A MODIFIED EVOLUTIONARY VIRUS.

THE MILITARY FACTION HAS PRESENTED ITSELF. OUR SCOUTS SAY THEY CARRY BANNERS DEPICTING BULLS AND CLAD IN ROMAN WARRIOR ATTIRE. WE ARE NO FOOLS. WE KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. WE LEARNED OF THE NCR'S FALL A LITTLE UNDER TWO YEARS AGO, BUT WE HAD NO IDEA THEY WOULD BE SO BOLD AS TO APPROACH THE UNTAMED EAST COAST.

THEY FAR OUTNUMBER US. THE NEWLY-DEVELOPED MEV WILL MAKE UP FOR THE DIFFERENCE.

RATHER THAN CREATE A CURE, THE MEV MANIFESTED ITSELF BY TURNING OUR HUMAN SUBJECTS INTO MONSTERS, OR TRANFORMING OUR MUTANT SUBJECTS INTO GROTESQUELY-ALTERED FIENDS. THEY ARE FAR STRONGER THAN THEIR PREVIOUS FORMS. MORE RESILIENT. AND THEY TYPICALLY HOLD A GENETIC ANOMALY THAT ENHANCES A PART - OR MULTIPLE PARTS - OF THEIR BODIES SOMEHOW. ONE TYPICAL MODIFICATION TYPICAL AMONG THE FIENDS IS THE FORMATION OF CLAWS AND FANGS, A BULKIER MUSCLE MASS, AND, IN SOME CASES, REGENERATIVE TISSUE.

NORA'S SIREN BLOODLINE MAY NOT HAVE PRESENTED ITSELF PROPERLY IN THESE BEASTS, BUT IT CERTAINLY LEFT ITS UNIQUE BRANDING MARK.

VERY FEW OF OUR TEST SUBJECTS REACTED TO THE INJECTION IN WAYS WE HAD NO PREDICTED. THESE APTLY-TITLED HALF-SIRENS HAVE BRILLIANT RED MARKINGS EMBLAZONED UPON THEIR FLESH. THEY ARE ALSO NOTORIOUSLY MENTALLY UNSTABLE. BUT THE POWERS THEY COMMAND ARE ... INCREDIBLE!

CAESAR'S LEGION NUMBERS IN THE THOUSANDS. WITH OUR CREATIONS, NUMBER WON'T BE AN ISSUE.

TWO MONTHS AGO, THE CHILDREN OF ATOM PRESENTED OUR ELDER WITH A PECULIAR STONE LINED WITH GLOWING VIOLET STONES. IT HAD BEEN EXCAVATED FROM ONE OF THEIR SITES IN THE GLOWING SEA. THEY ALSO EXPLAINED THE APPEARANCE OF A STONE ARCHWAY. TO OUR KNOWLEDGE, IT IS STILL STANDING.

ARE THESE, PERHAPS, RELICS DESCRIBED IN THE HYPERION DATABANKS? A VAULT AND ITS KEY?

\- SCRIBE PROCTOR QUINLAN

"That bitch," snarled Fiona. Anger shook her very core. "That fucking _cunt_."

"Which one?" MacCready growled. "I assue you're not talking about Quinlan. Or Danse."

"Yvette. I can't believe ... I really _thought_ she'd changed her ways, but this - !"

She recalled their trip to Hyperion for the last Gortys piece. How hurt Rhys sounded when he found out his supposed childhood friend turned traitor so eagerly. The ex-Hyperion didn't realize he'd left his ECHO on throughout the confrontation. Yvette showed no remorse in demanding Rhys' body. Not even the tiniest inkling of grief.

In the briefest moment on the Hyperion landing strip where Rhysquez turned just enough so that they could see his half of his face through the caravan window, he looked so devastated Fiona thought he might actually _cry_. Oh, how August had laughed. And how Sasha had slugged the ever-loving _shit_ out of the momma's boy for it.

 _"Careful,"_ Fiona had chirruped. _"That's her new boyfriend you're mocking, August."_

August's demoralized expression had been very worth the painful punch Sasha landed in her ribs.

Seeing Yvette at the Children of Helios base came as a surprise to all of them. Vaughn had no doubt about her reformed loyalty, but then again he hadn't known about her utter betrayal. Even when Rhys pulled him aside, the former accountant was adamant things had changed. Really, they all thought so too. Hyperion was gone. What could go wrong?

"And Maya ... "

That blow came accompanied with speechlessness. The shock was too much for her to comprehend. How could ... how could the very Siren who defended Rhys against Lilith been _a cohort_? Were there ulterior motives?

Looking back on it now, she suddenly didn't feel so bad Maya had her eyes gouged out.

MacCready was stunned, as well. She suspected it had more to do with the revelation of experiments performed on Nora's unwilling body. The slow-forming red encompassing his features suggested the rekindling of furious emotions. "I can't believe," he hissed, "they ... they ... "

LOG: SEPTEMBER 21, 2290

FOUR MAJOR DEVELOPMENTS SINCE MY LAST LOG.

THE DRIVE PRESENTED BY YVETTE CONTAINED AN A.I. PROGRAM ENTAILING ALL THE TRAITS OF HYPERION'S EXPIRED HANDSOME JACK. HE IS FULLY COGNITIVE, INTELLIGENT, AND EXTREMELY VINDICTIVE. ONE OF OUR LAB TECHNICIANS POKED FUN OF HIS MASK. HANDSOME JACK OVERRIDED THE SECURITY SYSTEM, SIEZED CONTROL OF A TURRET, AND BLASTED HIM INTO PIECES.

HE'S BRILLIANT: FAR MORE THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED. THIS UNEXPECTED EVENT HAD GRANTED US THE ABILITY TO HAVE OUR UNANSWERED QUESTIONS RESOLVED.

THROUGH HANDSOME JACK, WE WERE ABLE TO CONFIRM THE IDENTITY OF THE VAULT KEY PRESENTED TO US BY THE CHILDREN OF ATOM. HE SHOWED US HOW TO CHARGE IT BY FORCING MAYA TO ACTIVATE HER POWERS.

THIS PRESENTED US WITH THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO ENFORCE OUR COOPERATION WITH THE CHILDREN OF ATOM BY PRESENTING 'ATOM HIMSELF'. HANDSOME JACK FOUND THE PLAN ABSOLUTELY DIABOLICAL AND PLAYED ALONG FANTASTICALLY. TOGETHER WITH THE CHARGED VAULT KEY AND THE CONVINCED, HYMN-SINGING CHILDREN OF ATOM WE INTERCEPTED THE APPROACHING LEGION IN THE GLOWING SEA.

THEIR CARVED TRAJECTORY TO THE COMMONWEALTH COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE PERFECT. WE MET THEM IN FRONT OF THE VAULT'S ARCH, THREATENED THEM WITH ATOM'S UNMATCHED PROWESS. OF COURSE THEY LAUGHED, RAISED THEIR WEAPONS, AND FIRED ...

THE SHOCK ON THEIR FACES WHEN WE ACTIVATED THE VAULT'S ENTRANCE WAS BEYOND INCREDIBLE! I AM SURE IT MATCHED OUR OWN, WITHOUT A DOUBT. FORTUNATE FOR US, THEY DIDN'T SEEM TO NOTICE.

THE VAULT DOOR SPRUNG TO LIFE. THERE WERE TENTACLES, CLAWS, RIPPING THROUGH THE ENTRANCE. ABOMINABLE. HUGE. IT SNATCHED THE LIFE OUT OF SEVERAL DOZEN LEGIONNAIRES WITHOUT SO MUCH OF AN EFFORT. IT WAS ALL THAT COULD BE MANAGED. THE VAULT KEY WAS UNABLE TO HOLD ITS CHARGE AND THE GLOWING ENTRANCE VANISHED, LEAVING THE STONE ARCH AND NOTHING ELSE. BUT IT HAD BEEN ENOUGH TO PROVE TO US YVETTE AND HANDSOME JACK HAD NOT BEEN LYING ... AND IT WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE CAESAR LANIUS SURRENDER, CONVINCED HE HAD JUST SEEN GOD.

CERTAIN THAT WHATEVER WAS AT WORK WAS GREATER THAN HIMSELF, CAESAR LANIUS PLEDGED HIS LOYALTY TO US, VOWING TO SERVE ATOM. HOW UNEXPECTED! THE WORLD IS FULL OF IDIOTS.

BUT NOW OUR 'ARMY' IS STRONGER THAN EVER. WITH THE THREAT OF THE LEGION OUT OF THE WAY, WE CAN FOCUS ON RETAKING THE COMMONWEALTH AND RE-ESTABLISHING THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL. OR ... SOMETHING.

OUR BROTHERHOOD HAS DISSOLVED. WE LOST A MAJORITY OF OUR MEMBERS WHILE PERFORMING OUT INCREDIBLE FEATS. THE HEATHENS THOUGHT WE WERE STRAYING TOO FAR FROM OUR CODEX. BETRAYING OUR HUMANITY. BECOMING TOO MUCH LIKE THE INSTITUTE, LIKE THE ENCLAVE. CAN'T THEY SEE WHAT WE'RE DOING IS GOING TO BENEFIT US AND THE COMMONWEALTH? WILL BENEFIT THE ENTIRE EAST COAST, GRADUALLY THE WHOLE UNITED STATES?

THOSE INFERIOR MEMBERS WERE DISCONTINUED OF THEIR SERVICE, OF COURSE. LET THEM ROT.

ON AN IRRITATING NOTE, MAYA WAS ABLE TO SUMMON ENOUGH STRENGTH TO VACATE HER HOLDING CELL THROUGH THE USE OF HER SIREN POWERS. WE HAD TO HALT THE DRUG ADMINISTRATION REQUIRED TO KEEP HER 'TAME' IN ORDER TO CHARGE THE VAULT KEY. IT WAS A MISTAKE WE WON'T REPEAT AGAIN.

HANDSOME JACK WAS THRILLED AT THE SIGHT OF YVETTE. SO WERE WE. AN EXCITING EVOLUTION TOOK PLACE SINCE WE INJECTED HER WITH THE MEV. THE CONDITIONS OF HER DNA WERE JUST RIGHT TO MAKE HER INTO A HALF-SIREN. HANDSOME JACK SAID THAT ONLY SIX SIRENS COULD EXIST WITHIN THE UNIVERSE AT ANY GIVEN TIME. WE CURRENTLY HOLD FOUR IN OUR RANKS AND AT LEAST THREE 'TRUE' SIRENS (INCLUDING MAYA AND THE YET-UNDISCOVERED RYS-2050 WHO, HANDSOME JACK ASSURES, IS ACTIVE AT THIS TIME) ARE THRIVING IN OTHER DIMENSIONS. THAT MAKES SEVEN. SO HALF-SIRENS DO NOT COUNT?

MY, THOSE CRIMSON TATTOOS ARE BEAUTIFUL.

HANDSOME JACK'S GENEROUS SPERM DONATION (GIVEN SEVERAL YEARS AGO, ACCORDING TO HIM) PROVED FRUITFUL. NORA GILLESPIE IS NOW PREGNANT. THE FETAL VITALS ARE COMING IN LOUD AND STRONG. DNA SAMPLES FROM THE UMBILICAL ARTERIES CONFIRMED THE MYSTERIOUS SIREN AMINO ACID COUPLING. DRINKS TONIGHT!

SHE IS DUE FOR RELEASE INTO THE COMMONWEALTH LATER THIS WEEK. MORE OF THE ELDER'S ORDERS. I'M NOT AWARE OF THE FULL REASONING BEHIND IT, BUT HE APPEARS ... COMPASSIONATE. "LET HER HAVE TIME WITH THE CHILD," HE SAYS. "BEFORE WE MUST TAKE IT." WE ARE ALL AWARE OF NORA'S PREMATURE SEPARATION FROM SHAUN GILLESPIE, FOUNDER AND FATHER OF THE INSTITUTE. BUT WHY THE SYMPATHY?

HANDSOME JACK APPEARS TO DISAPPROVE. I HAVE SEEN HIM SPEAKING IN CONFIDENCE TO CAESAR LANIUS. THIS HAS ME WORRIED.

\- SCRIBE PROCTOR QUINLAN

The last entry lingered in front of them. Codsworth's finger hovered over the keyboard, but he couldn't bring himself to strike the button required to open it. He was pale. Lost. _Shocked_. "Mum?"

Fiona had to keep reminding herself that Codsworth had once been her butler. He helped raise Nora's family, care for both her and her husband. With two members of their brood out of the picture, Nora was the only one left ... the only connecion to humanity that made Codsworth into what he was today: friendly, loving, and empathic to human needs.

His features were utterly _hurting_.

"Eject the holodisk," Fiona said softly, gently clasping Codsworth's shaking hand and pulling it softly to the side. "We can read that last log at the Institute, okay?"

Codsworth did as he was told. He slipped the item into his suit coat pocket silently.

"Did you check the last drawer?" asked MacCready quietly. His eyes were looking at the object in question, but they were so far away and vacant that Fiona wasn't sre he was actually seeing it.

"No, I ... " A shake of her head. The con artist wordlessly picked her way through the lock. She pried the container open, expecting nothing more than junk or pens or rifled papers.

She did not expect to see the Hyperion ECHO comm mentioned in the data logs.

"I can't believe it," gasped Fiona, snatching the obnoxiously bulky recording device with a too-excited fervor. "This fucking thing ... "

The ex-Gunner roused from his perpetual spirit-slumber. "What's that?"

"An ECHO. _The_ ECHO." Tapping a choice button powered the thing up. "There'll be info on that stupid project Hyperion had going on. Maybe more stuff." It hummed to life. True to everything else they were running into nowadays, black text scrolled across the green screen. 'PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD'. Fiona tried the obvious - everything any Hyperion ever dreamed of. "Handsome Jack. Hero. Legacy. Rich. Filthy rich?"

Wow. None of those?

"Let's get it to Rhys. He's ex-Hyperion, right?" MacCready's hand was on her shoulder.

Anxiety returned. Where was he? Where was Sasha? Undoubtedly they were together, but where was that? Where was Nora and Piper and ...

She looked at him. His rage was quelled to weary numbness. "Yeah," she said, too quickly. Trying again, slower and calmer this time, Fiona continued. "Yeah ... Let's get out of here."


	21. My Hippocratic Oath, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I was really hoping to have this chapter done before the weekend was up. I failed. I'm pushing 10k already. So I'm splitting this one into two parts, because I want you to have at least SOMETHING to read.
> 
> So presenting Part 1! Part 2 to come next weekend!
> 
> I'm also seriously surprised at how many followers I've been getting here as of late. Wow ... O.o Just, holy crap, WOW. Thank you!

 

"Feral ghouls," Nora snarled, her face twisted into a painstaking grimace. She was glad to see that it was shared amongst the multitude - the ones that were conscious, at least. "Why does it _have_ to be feral ghouls? Why do they _have_ to be in a damn _graveyard_? This isn't a Romero flick. I mean, _come on_!"

Once upon a time, Cambridge was a nice, not-so-little historical city with plenty of flourishing businesses, a beautiful view of the river and was ... kind of touristy. The populace was somewhat friendly back then. Nowadays they were vengeful, flesh-hungry freaks of nature.

Maybe that was a little harsh. Hancock wasn't a freak of nature (most of the time), and Kent Connolly was about the cuddliest, naivest little Ghoul she'd ever had the pleasure of running across (with the exception of, probably, Billy the kid-in-the-fridge). But ferals ... ferals were something else. Something _lethal_. They were fast, tenacious, _relentless_ , and about as dangerous (and annoying) in a horde as a disturbed nest of yellow jackets.

Nora counted at least nine of them stumbling behind the broken headstones. But that wasn't counting what could be lurking behind the cemetery's opposing hill. At least they were normal ones. For the most part. But Piper pointed out at least one Withered traipsing about in their ranks. That made things complicated.

"At least's it's not a Glowing One," the reporter added helpfully. "Or a Reaver."

Nora shuddered at that. "I could do without a Reaver."

"So ... zombies, right?" Rhys questioned from beside them. His voice was a little too hopeful given the situation. "Aren't they suppose to be slow? So we can just outrun them and be fine?"

"This isn't a Romero flick," repeated the Minutemen general.

"Ferals _run_ ," Piper told him. "And jump. Have you - you didn't run into any yet?" His slow shake of the head answered that question, and his audible gulp made his unease obvious.

Nora almost felt bad for Suit. He was inexperienced in this kind of thing - it didn't take a RobCo scientist to figure that out, considering how flimsy he was in handling a (very cool) shock baton that slid easily from between his fingers like it was greased and how terrified he'd been at climbing that rocky precipice beforehand. Given his lanky features and exceptionally long legs (traits that mimicked her own, she realized with queer amusement), Rhys could probably _book it_ across the danged street in record time. But she worried what would happen if the ghouls (or any other monster, for that matter) caught up with him, cornered him ... especially with the incapacitated Vaughn, still limp in his arms.

She supposed it could be worse.

At least they weren't _Deathclaws_.

Still crouched behind a bus stop booth, Nora turned slowly to face her companions. "Looks like we'll make a run for it," she whispered to them, her eye focusing on Vaughn's body momentarily. He was still breathing, but he was also still sweating and pale. "Hospital doors are boarded up. Windows too. Should be a service entrance in the back."

"Are you sure about that?" asked the reporter, running her thumb over the mountaineering axe's serrated teeth.

She grinned back sheepishly. "Nope."

"Oh that's - that's just _wonderful_ ," grumbled Rhys hoarsely. "We could walk into a group of more mutant monsterthings and be _dinner_ \- "

Piper chuckled cheekily. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"It's the blind leading the blind!"

"Kept you alive so far, hasn't it?" Nora said, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Business Suit's glum expression didn't brighten. "Welcome to the world of 'Winging It', alien boy."

"I think I'd rather tangle with skags."

"Don't know what those are, but have you tried to pet a mongrel yet?"

"A - a what?"

"It's a - "

Interrupted by the (very rude) thrusting of somebody's finger into her ribs, Nora inhaled sharply and glared at Piper. "Bigger fish to fry, Blue."

"Right." Huffing slowly, Nora looked from the graveyard to the road and back again. "I changed my mind. Let's sneak. Not run. Running is bad." She inched forth to the hospital's dirty exterior, watched for any indications that they'd been spotted, and waved the others over when it was all clear.

Piper had no problem keeping low, but Rhys found it more than difficult to pull that off while holding a comatose teammate. He managed, albeit awkwardly, by slinging Vaughn around his neck. In this case the half-naked man's height (or lack thereof) was a convenient thing. The human scarf fidgeted slightly at the rough treatment, but remained soundless.

They waited for another second while surveying the cemetery. Ferals shambled this way and that, but no mottled, decaying faces twisted their way. No snarls. No growls. No nothing.

"All clear." Nora moved swiftly, silently, using her lean frame to her advantage. "Come along, poppets."

Piper had always been quiet in sneak mode. Rhys was a little less nimble with his added load, but Nora noticed him studying her own motions (clearly she wasn't the only one who realized their similar anatomical structure), paused to adjust, and was copying her stealthy behavior perfectly. Maybe he wasn't battle-ready, but the general gave him points for being observant.

This was probably the only smooth operation they'd had since falling into a pit straight to Hell. No hang-ups. No interference. No unplanned battle. Just a straight shot to the hospital's service door, right around that corner ahead of them ...

Right around that ...

... that brahmin corpse.

And those bloodbugs.

Those bloodbugs that definitely noticed _them_.

"Oh for the love of - "

Nora heard a whisper - from Rhys, asking, "Are those what I think they are?", before the mutated mosquitoes in question halted their feeding and launched skyward with humming wings flapping far-too quickly for them to follow. And then they were upon them, bee-lining for their flesh, so unsatisfied with their previous meal that human blood jumped into the number one spot of their menu. Four flying insects swarmed upon them. They dove at their faces, attempted impalement with elongated probosci, landed creepily long legs on their bodies to get better angles ...

The crew has no choice but to bail on their attempted silent reconnaissance. Vouching instead to swat at the creatures or swing at them with sword and axe, Piper and Nora went back-to-back in order to better face their foes.

"Fucking _bugs_!" hissed Nora, electrified sword buzzing through the air. It missed an outmaneuvering bloodbug's thorax but succeeded in tapping on of its wings, sending sparks of electricity to the rest of its horrifying bodice and spasming it in mid-flight. Falling to the ground in a mass of twitching limbs, the general wanted very much to stomp on its stupid head and was denied the desire by a second intercepting insect. "I _hate_ \- _hate_ bugs!"

Piper was having far less luck than Nora was - even if her lucky strike was simply a fluke. The reporter was more apt with guns, which she was currently without. Rhys was the only other one who might be of some use here, but he was both preoccupied with an unconscious man and practically dancing on his tiptoes to avoid a particularly determined bloodbug. "Get it away!" he kept yelling helplessly. "Get it away!"

Several snarls kicked up in the distance. In a moment, mutant mosquitoes wouldn't be the only things they'd have to worry about.

Nora smacked away a needle-nose and hollered, "Run for it!"

Rhys didn't need to be told twice. She was correct in assuming that he could move like greased lightning. and boy _did he_. His swift-legged gait caused Vaughn's arms and legs to splay wildly outward, clocking Nora's head with unintentional force and sending her slamming cheek-first into the pavement, butt in the air. Which would have been fine - she could have gotten up quickly - if a fucking _bloodbug_ didn't spy this prime opportunity for food.

_Prick!_

"WAHAH!" she yelped, leaping to the air with her free hand on her ass. She managed to grab the proboscis currently rammed into her butt cheek, ripped it out, and all but _flew_ towards the service door. "FUCK THAT HURT!"

Piper was love. Piper was life. Piper was the savior of Nora's lost dignity, cleaving through the offending bug's midsection as it hurtled through the air, then immediately bolting behind her friend. Ahead of them, Rhys wrenched open the double doors and disappeared into the dark corridor behind them. Nora dove into next, then Piper, who wheeled around to put her weight against it as the alerted ferals came charging up.

Despite the throbbing agony of her violated ass, Nora shoved into the door beside the reporter. And not a second too soon. Furious hands clobbered the steel doors, angry howls piercing the otherwise quiet air. The ghouls were a force to be reckoned with, forcing the doors open only for the two women to struggle at shutting it back up. Bloodbug needles poked through little openings made by the impeding zombies. Rhys haphazardly placed Vaughn on the ground, launching with petrified eyes to help them.

"No!" screamed Piper. Suit skid to a halt. "Find a - a broom! Or - shit - something long! And solid!"

Man, he could go _fast_ when he thought he was going to die! Rhys plowed through the room, ripped across metal shelves and tore at piles of junk until he returned, shaking, with a lead pipe. "H-how's this?!"

Patience was not one of Nora's virtues right now. "Just stick it in there!" she yelled. A moment later she forced a barking laugh and shrieked, "That sounded awful!"

Once the pipe was in place, the two girl backed slowly away from the doors. They rattled. The pipe jostled back and forth. But it would hold. Rhys managed to procure a rusted chain and with Piper's help he secured the doors in place. Sure, the ghouls outside continued to claw at their barred entrance, but at least it would keep them from getting inside ... for now. Eventually they would give up and stray away.

The three of them gathered in a circle, panting and sweating. When Nora composed herself enough to stand, she socked Rhys in the chest. _Hard_. "Jackass!"

" _Why_?" he wheezed, trying hard to regain the wind that was knocked out of him.

"You knocked me over!" growled Nora, rubbing her sore spot. "And a bloodbug ... touched me in a way no man ever has!"

"It bit her on the ass," Piper jeered. The red-coated woman could only giggle hard as Nora pierced her with a life-stealing glare.

"I won't be able to sit down right for weeks. That's a travesty, damn it!"

Rhys' sucking in air became a difficult endeavor when he could not contain his sudden laughter, so Nora helped by punching him again.

 

* * *

 

 

There were very few things left in the world to be viewed as godsends. Kendall Hospital was not one of them.

Sure, it was quiet enough. Uninhabited. Maybe. But it was dark. They stumbled into each other on more than one occasion while feeling for doors and pathways. And the further into it they dwelled, the stronger the sense of danger got. And the more overpowering the stench ... It was indistinguishable at first: something like burnt bacon mixed with foul milk. Only when the group wormed their way into Kendall's main reception area did they become painfully acquainted with the horrid odor of putrid flesh and ash.

Had the room been blacked out, they would have fallen into the nastiness awaiting them without a second thought. They were fortunate enough that a few of the second story windows were exposed and open to sunlight.

Piled high in the floor's center was a butcher's combination of charcoal and disassembled, desiccated limbs. Limbs that probably belonged to some random civilians trying hard to strike it out at life in the Commonwealth, only to wind up here ... burned by cinders by senseless psychopaths. The lingering debris was enough to make them choke on ancient smoke.

"Because that's not a horrible indicator of anything," Rhys mewled in a strained voice, pinching his nose. He stirred as everybody stared at him. "Um ... what?"

"You're not hurling," Nora noted, covering her own mouth and wincing at the looming acidity in the atmosphere. "You, who was all pukey when he smelled rotten crab."

"Yeah, well ... ," he laughed nervously, rubbing his nose and effectively rubbing soot all over his face, "I ... uh ... I'm - I'm used to ... other things? Bodies, I guess. Which is weird, thinking about it now?"

"This is raider handiwork, right?" Piper asked, circling the char dune with heavy scrutiny. "Burned bits of trader clothes ... not a single piece of armor ... Stupid, senseless, and _cruel_. How could ... _why_?"

"Raiders don't typically have a good reason for anything, Pipe. Unless it's got chems involved." Using the steel tip of her boot, Nora kicked at a dried leg. It crumbled at the touch, skin flaking away - and now Rhys _did_ gag. "I was starting to hope the raiders all migrated outta the Commonwealth ... But at least the room's cold. No smoldering embers. No heat. So whoever dd this is long gone for now."

Rhys shuddered. "For _now_?"

"I mean they could always return, but ... " Looking to Piper, the general cocked her head, pale silvery-blond hair falling into her eye. "I thought Kendall got cleared out by the Minutemen?"

"Yeah, but raiders are like cockroaches. They just keep coming back. And - that's odd." She leaned down, sifting through the ashed with her gloved fingers. Nora and Rhys scrunched up their faces in disapproval.

"What is it?" the general asked, stepping to her side.

Piper removed an arm, hoisting it warily into the air with her forefinger and thumb, teeth clenched in a regretful scowl. "See the bite marks?"

She did. They were ragged, sharply-edged, messy, and dotted the flesh in various places with no distinguishable pattern. Hunks of muscle were missing. "So?"

"Think it could have been a mutie?"

"They probably just had dogs ... It's nothing to get worked up about, Piper," Nora stated while waving her off.

Rhys approached from behind. Standing next to Nora, the duo towered over the Publick Occurrences reporter. She shifted uneasily at their presence. "Christ, how's the weather up there?"

"You're just jealous because you're short," Rhys countered, managing a wry smile despite his disheveled, worried state. There was something far-away about his human eye that made Nora wonder where his mind was wandering off to. Probably his girlfriend. Or Vaughn's health. Those were the two most reasonable answers. In all seriousness, he added, "Do you think we're, uh, _safe_ here?"

 _Sure! Of course!_ Nora wanted to respond enthusiastically to put his (and honestly, _her own_ ) mind at ease, but the truth was a much more viable option. Stepping from one foot to the other, she denied the optimism by stating, "Probably not. So let's make this fast. Weapons out while we're searching. And watch your ass."

Cait would have made some crude euphemism about how somebody already nibbled at Nora's.

She really wished she hadn't thought about Cait.

 

* * *

 

 

The power was out. That was a bad thing. But Rhys guessed a building that got knocked to hell and back 200+ years ago wasn't exactly supposed to STILL have power running. That would be strange.

Then again, if power ran off of the nigh-unending power of fusion cores like Nora had said, maybe it wasn't such an unusual concept.

But there was no light here. Pitch darkness in every room they carefully meandered their way through. Every venture was accompanied with a hard strike to the head. Or shin. Or toe. Each of them cursed aloud at least once. Except Vaughn, of course, and Rhys was certain he'd accidentally knocked his bestest bro into a wall or doorway at least twice by now.

Searching for a way to cure Vaughn's spreading infection became a dismal loop of endless circles into pitch-darkness. The only beacon of light that presented itself was an actual glow ... of actual light ... and a moderately-pitched electronic humming coming from a room on the first floor. Like moths to a flame, they gravitated towards it. And when they within visual range, Nora _squealed_ with glee.

Piper didn't quite share the sentiment, groaning into the palm of her hand. Rhys wasn't necessarily excited either, but he was definitely intrigued by the giant, awkward-looking robot encapsulated in the glass display ahead of them, lifeless and quiet.

But Nora was basically a kid in a candy store. For a fleeting moment as Nora hovered over the wall-mounted terminal beside the dormant bot, there was a bigger nerd in the room than him.

"Of course you would _fly_ to the one working computer in this place," drolled Piper through the cracks between her fingers. "Like you used to. In every building ever. Doesn't matter if we're surrounded by ghouls or mutants. 'Oh look, a terminal that needs hacking!'"

If the reporter's jibe was meant to infuriate Nora, it wasn't very effective. The general leaned over the keyboard, happily strumming each key. "Look, it's been _two years_ since I got to fiddle with one of these!"

"It's an obsession, Blue."

"It's not an obsession! It's a _hobby_!"

"There's a very fine line between hobby," Rhys cut into the discussion, "and mental illness." But he was mesmerized by how quick her hands were moving ... and the fact that she was even _hacking_ to begin with ...

"You really wanna hop on that bandwagon, Mister Roboto?" she chided, shooting him a leer beyond her shoulder. "And here I thought you would've loved this old-world tech stuff. Pffft, fine! I'll add in something a little extra just for you. Once I get it booted up - "

"What exactly is 'it'?" he cut her off with a raised brow. There was no denying it, his curiosity might have evolved into a little something more ... fervent. Vaughn might have been gawking at the display. "And how does it have anything to do with helping Vaughn?"

"It's a Protectron," Piper told him, removing her fingers to place her hand on her hip. "Not exactly graceful, but once they get working, they're like guard dogs for dorks. That shoots lasers."

"Though they're nowhere as near as maneuverable as an Assaultron, there's definitely something rustic and charming about these guys." More clicking and clacking. "They patrol the area and make it secure. Getting this guy rolling will help keep the perimeter safe in case of a raider attack or ... or something. Definitely one of RobCo's better developments."

"RobCo?"

"Corporation that manufactures computers and robotics. They made Pip-Boys for Vault-Tec." Okay, Rhys was definitely a little more impressed now, having handled the Pip-Boy a little himself. "Sentry bots, too .And they helped make Mister Handies and Gutsies."

 _Repeat, will you comply?_ "Oh."

"And," Nora grinned, lonely eye sparking to life, "it was _my_ company."

Rhys did a double-take, shocked. "Wait, _your's_?"

"I mean not ... you know, not like I owned it or anything. I worked for them. Was one of their head programmers."

He uttered a surprised chuckle. "No kidding?"

"Nope. I mean, it wasn't my career of choice, but they basically sniffed me out of MIT. Were impressed by my test scores." A final tap brought her to a main menu screen. Nora gave a victorious whoop. "I wanted to be an astronaut."

"That didn't turn out for you?"

"It did and it didn't. I was originally planning to get on with REPCONN and move out west. So initially I didn't accept their offer. When Nate and I tied the knot and he got drafted into the war ... I was pretty much grounded after that, so I jumped on the opportunity. Which was handy. RobCo purchased REPCONN and I figured, 'what the hell, maybe I can ride this out?' Then Nate came back and we had Shaun ... so I just settled with what I had." Nora scrolled through some of the options presented to her, tonguing her bottom lip. "It was good money. Really good. And they even gifted me with Codsworth when I went on maternity leave."

He rolled his shoulders backwards to adjust Vaughn's placement, blinking rapidly as Nora tapped on a few finalizing options. "I'm ... impressed?" There was no denying the strangeness in parallels between them, with some obvious differences here and there.

Piper elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't encourage her, you'll only make it worse."

"To hell with you both anyway," Nora quipped.

_Click!_

The sliding glass of it's capsule slid back, freeing the idle Protectron from its encasement. It hummed to life with the flashing of an amber light adhered to its back. "POWERING UP. PROTECTRON ON."

"Buttboy!" Nora called. To everybody's (terrified) surprise, the robot wheeled maladroitly about to face ( _what face?_ ) the Minutemen general. "Attention!"

"What? Buttboy?" Piper snorted derisively. "You're ... you're kidding, Blue?"

"BUTTBOY REPORTING FOR DUTY, MISTRESS."

" _Mistress_?!"

"WHO SHALL I ASS-IMILATE WITH MY RIGHTEOUS FIST OF POUNDING?"

Rhys' lips curled upwards into a disbelieving smile. _Oh my god, she turned it into a sex bot._ "That's so wrong."

"Blue? How did you do that?"

"Oh yeah so ... the thing about being a head programmer at RobCo? A lot of us were kind of ... assholes," Nora chuckled nervously, scratching at the temple behind her unseeing eye. "We did some strange stuff when we got bored. Including, but not limited to, designing unique personality matrixes for our robots that could be brought to life with the insertion of the right code." To Buttboy, she commanded, "Your target is this guy right here." And she pointed to Rhys.

One hand on Vaughn to keep him steady, the CEO waved dismissively at the Protectron as it turned towards him ... and lumbered forward. "Oh ho, _whoaaaaaaaah_ , noooo way. I don't swing - I know I'm _part_ robot but I don't - "

"GREETINGS, DARLING," it droned, undeterred. "PLEASE ASSUME THE POSITION. KEEP YOUR ARMS AND LEGS IN THE RIDE AT ALL TIMES."

If Rhys could have blended into the wall, he would have. But he definitely made sure to keep his backside away from the damned mobile hunk of scrap metal that drew ever closer. "Ohhhkay, you can _stop_ now, Nora! Is this because the the mosquito thing? I'm _really_ , _really_ sorry, okay?!"

Piper was laughing too hard now to interrupt. Just as he was about to assume their lunacy, Buttboy came to a screeching halt about an inch away from Rhys' face, whirred without rhythm, and belted a, "PROTECT AND SERVE," before meandering (wobbling) away.

Nora detached herself from the wall-mounted terminal, smirking. "Don't fuck with a tech, Suit."

"You're insane," Rhys wheezed. He felt himself chortle, though he wasn't sure if it was because he'd been humored or because he was terrified. "Utterly insane."

"Only in small doses," she admitted casually. Nora directed a thumb at the Protectron's back as it vanished beyond the doorway. "Lucky you, we didn't install any _added parts_ , if you know what I mean." Rhys stared her down with a penetrating, mildly hateful gaze. "Don't worry!" Nora relented with a cackle. "I restored it to default mode. Just wanted to scare ya."

"Well, you did a good job with that!"

"Heh, I know right?" She was beaming now, exposing the only white teeth Rhys had seen in the Commonwealth thus far. "It was more in memory of Cait than anything else. She'd get a kick out of that."

Just like that, Nora's giddiness faltered into submission beneath the harrowing gaze of mournful regret. The light from her eye faded, her smile drooping _just so_ , and Rhys found himself with pangs in his heart. Whether he wanted to or not, the Atlas tech found his own thoughts dwelling back to the same place they'd been haunting for the last several hours: _Where's Fiona? Is she okay? Is Sasha safe? Please Sasha be safe. Should have brought Athena with us. Should have -_

Piper pinched his shoulder lightly enough to drag him back into the now. Nora was gone, having disappeared wordlessly in pursuit of the Protectron. "Come on," she told him, voice taking on a milder tone - _warmer_ , he noted. "Vaughn's not looking too hot. Maybe we can follow the bot to an area that's got some supplies ... It'll be easier that way, considering ... "

She didn't really need to explain that one. In the absolute darkness that awaited them, it was impossible to miss the strobing amber emitted from the Protectron's emergency utility light. Rhys could see Nora's shadow lurking behind it, one hand jammed into her pants pocket and the other resting on her sword's hilt.

Rhys wasn't really sure why he hesitated in following, but Vaughn's labored breath upon his neck stirred his legs to life. "Yeah," he murmured, "let's go."

He was grateful, in a way, for Nora's peculiar eccentricity. Rhys had been able to laugh and jest, temporarily putting his own intense anxieties to rest even though the smothering, dismal reality of the moment returned to crash the party at the end.

 

* * *

 

 

The elevator was out. Which made sense, of course. No power. _Duh_.

Luckily, the Protectron (forever known now as Buttboy) appeared to know its way around Kendall Hospital. Was it programmed in? How was it even seeing where it was going? Rhys supposed it had an environmental scanner, an 'eye', to see even in the dark.

It found a healthy alternative to ascension, leading them to a flight of stairs that was in surprisingly good condition. Rhys really didn't expect the robot to succeed in climbing the steps, providing how horrid its hobbling gait was ... but climb it did. Slowly. And at several points looking like it was about to teeter backwards until Nora put a steadying hand on its top-heavy frame.

He counted the floors as they passed the landings. Floor 3 was inaccessible - the door had been dismounted and crushed courtesy of a cave in from the ceiling above, which simultaneously cut off access to the fourth floor.

The fifth floor had to doors, one to the east and one to the west. Though the one on the west wasn't really ... a door? One had definitely existed there at one point. It was gone now, replaced by several slabs of splintered wood nailed into the wall. Acrid, foul-smelling wind blew in through the gaps. That couldn't be a good sign. Rhys was glad he wasn't the only one who shuddered.

But the other door was fully intact. So was the hallway it led to. Sticking close to the functioning Protectron unit, they canvassed the location, combing through each room for some form of supplies. There were ammunition boxes filled with sparse bullets (just enough for Piper to reload) and handfuls of unsavory-looking syringes and strange containers.

"Used chems," Nora had explained. "Buffout. Psycho. Jet. People use them for the boost they give in combat. Raiders _live_ off of them."

"And not a medkit in sight," Piper groaned, pulling open a drawer so forcefully that it nearly wrenched free from the tracks. "No stimpacks or Med-X or anything."

"To hell with a stimpack," said Rhys, frowning. He thought back to his painstaking crawl to the Biodome, back to the infection that ravaged the empty slots where his Hyperion cybernetics used to be. "What he really needs is penicillin."

"Peni-what?"

"Old-world medicine, Pipes," Nora responded. Her voice was grim, and the way she shook her head settled cold iron in the pit of Rhys' gut. "There's no chance of us finding that, Suit. Anything left over from the old days would have expired centuries ago and - hey hey, don't look so down. We still have plenty of more rooms to skim through. I think we're on the OR floor anyhow so ... don't give up hope yet, alright?"

He was going to try. He really wanted to cling to hope. But Vaughn's body was getting hotter by the second.

Buttboy's surveillance landed them in a few rooms that were ... questionable, to say the very least. Rooms with dirty mattresses stained with blood and other bodily fluids nobody wanted to dwell on. Rooms stacked with skeletal remains and personal effects that once belonged to a civilian (and had no use to them anyhow). Rooms overflowing with empty food canisters - which brought to life a throng of growling stomachs. None of them realized how hungry they were beforehand. Or how thirsty ... or how _tired_. Constant movement did a good job at concealing personal bodily needs.

Vaughn stirred once or twice, his eyes fluttering in response to his own searing feverish warmth. He would ramble something incoherently before flopping his skull listlessly against Rhys' shoulder once again. When it became clear that the CEO was feeling discomfort from the prolonged load-holding, Piper offered to take Vaughn off of his hands. He'd refused every time.

Rhys was starting to wonder if the fates were out to ensure their miserable demise when they'd come across a final available chamber on this floor. Piper had to fight the lock with a bobby pin before they could get in, but once inside ... it wasn't much different from what they'd already seen. Splotches of rust, patches of old blood (primarily on the operating table and the surgical instruments), bits of human bone strewn here and there. Same old, same old. Sorry to disappoint you.

Except for the _machine_.

It was maybe the only relatively untouched thing in there. Cylindrical in appearance, Piper remarked how it looked oddly similar to a Pulowski preservation shelter (whatever that was). It was Nora who knew what exactly it was. They way he face glistened was similar to when they'd found Buttboy in his activation station.

"That's a Mark Nine," she breathed, mouth hanging slightly agape. "Do you know how rare those are?"

"I don't even know what it is, so, uh, _no_ ," Rhys told her dryly, surprised by the vehemence in his own words. He instantly regretted the flowing chagrin, attempting speech again with a softer note. "What is it?"

"Our saving grace." Nora clapped her hands together and walked circles around the object. "This is an AutoDoc."

Piper whistled. "Oh wow. I've heard of these things, but I've never actually seen one."

:"That's because they usually wind up getting scrapped. I don't imagine a lot of people nowadays actually take these things for what they are, or even know how to _use_ them. I mean," Nora ran her hand along a few deep grooves probably originating from an axe, "looks like the raiders did a number on it, but it should still work." Rolling open the capsule, the general released a relieved sigh. "At least there's no damage to the interior ... "

Rhys jumped straight to the point. "Will it cure infection?"

"It should, yeah. These things produce their own medicine from preserved ingredients stored ... somewhere. They're highly efficient like that. It'll do a full blood work on you, too. Complex operation can go completely unmanned by humans. Total marvels. Need a triple bypass surgery? No problem! In and out in one day, usually within under an hour."

He was sure his knees wobbled, though he didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was overjoyed. "Ohhh, awesome, thank _god_."

Unslinging Vaughn from his precarious perch, Piper helped steady the unconscious man and they both approached the AutoDoc. Nora cut them off with a sharp whistle. "That's not gonna work," she informed them, working her lower jaw in deep thought.

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't know if you noticed or not, but there's no _power_."

Rhys found himself miffed beyond repair. Fire seared his gullet, irritation flaring his troubled mind into overdrive. "Then why did you even _announce_ \- "

"We've got a fusion core, remember?" Oh ... right ... right? "So all we need to do if find the generator."

"It's too dark to see anything."

Nora's thin-lipped response indicated her knowledge of the same. He watched her eyebrows lower, gnawing her lower lip in concentration. They could always order the Protectron to lead them on. But that thing was ... well, it sure as hell wasn't _fast_.

"Hrmph," the general grunted, though it wasn't much of an answer. Nora gathered up the rucksack from where she'd dropped it on the ground and indicated Piper with an elongated index finger. "Piper, a favor?"

"What's shaking, Blue?"

"I want you to stay here with Vaughn." Rhys opened his mouth to protest, wishing to voice his desire to remain behind instead. Nora waved him without a second glance. "She's armed. And ... well, honestly Suit, she can _fight_." The way she tried to lighten her emphasis on the last word showed that she was trying _not_ to rub his combat ineffectiveness in his face. Rhys felt scorned nonetheless. "You know. In case of danger. And really, you're a nerd. So in case I get frick-a-fried or something, you can back me up. I'm assuming you _can_ hack, right?"

"You weren't the only programmer," he answered, and her pleasantly surprised smile made him feel a little better. "Former middle manager, thank you very much."

"Former?"

"Yep." Rhys grinned, unable to contain his gloating need. "Now I own a company."

"Oh hooooo, look who got all high and mighty all of a sudden," Nora poked fun. "Careful getting on that high horse, boyo. Your head might go through the ceiling."

"As interesting as this budding kinship is," butted in Piper, still keeping Vaughn steady in her grip, "might we act on the situation at hand? Vaughn's not getting any better just standing here." She nudged at Rhys' foot with her boot. The CEO released his bro rather reluctantly, leaving him entirely in the care of the reporter. "What do I do when the power comes back on?"

"Wait for us?" Nora's answer sounded laced with uncertainty. "Or mash a lot of buttons ... I, uh, I honestly don't know how these things work? So ... I mean, if you can figure it out until we get back ... ?"

Poor Vaughn. If he was awake, he could have offered his input on the situation.

"Sounds easy enough."

"Easy. Sure." Nora brisked past Rhys, tugging on his elbow as she passed. "C'mon, let's go hunting."

"But it's - it's still dark."

"Yeaaaah ... We'll figure something out."

 

* * *

 

 

If by 'figuring something out', Nora meant they would trip over one another in the hallway, then she was onto something. The Protectron stayed behind: an excellent choice that left them with no illumination whatsoever. Rhys traced his human hand on the wall to keep from accidentally falling into a room and getting lost.

They'd been walking for a while now. Rhys figured they were getting closer to the stairwell, when Nora grabbed at his arm again and led him, blinded, into what he could only assume was another room. His bony hip bumped a desk and the CEO erupted into a fray of curses.

Nora laughed. "First time I've heard you swear yet!"

"Not funny," Rhys hissed through clenched teeth, gently running his knuckles where the bruise would shortly form. He heard metal striking ... something ... and fire flickered from Nora's clenched palm. "Where'd you get the lighter?"

"Found it downstairs." She dropped the knapsack, rummaging amongst it's contents.

"And, uh, what are we doing here?"

The silvery-haired woman didn't answer. Instead she produced a screwdriver and some wire cutters. Then she nodded to Rhys' chrome-plated digits. "Lemme see?"

Heavy insecurity kicked in. Rhys drew back, much to Nora's dismay. "N-No, why?" he stammered, angling himself so that his metallic arm was out of reach. In a flash he recalled glowing eyes and sharpened teeth crunching down upon the titanium allow hand. "It's kind of - I don't know if - "

For an instant he thought Nora might retract into frustration or seize his limb without his permission. Instead she exhaled slowly, meticulously forming the words in her brain before voicing them to the world. "Look, that light on your palm could be useful. I don't really feel like falling to my death or some unseen collapsed floor, okay? Plus ... " Pausing, the Minutemen leader looked away, lips pursed together. "I ... kind of owe you. I did the damage, so I might as well be the one to fix it, yea?"

Ice coated his heart. Rhys held his breath, unable to speak. He was certain his pulse was machine-gunning.

Nora's one eye narrowed. "Look, you've got every reason to be scared to death of me. But I'm not - that wasn't me, okay? Not ... not completely."

When he was finally able to find his voice again, Rhys whispered, "I thought you didn't remember anything?"

"Yeah well, it's a little difficult to explain something like that when you really don't know the details yourself. So ... " She could not meet his gaze, but still held her hand out to take his. "Hand? Please?"

He felt like he was going to regret this decision, but getting his palmar LED fixed was better than the alternative. Rhys took the lighter from her with his organic hand to maintain lighting. It was a good minute until he was able to bring himself to extend his metal fingers. She took it gingerly, carefully opening his tense grip and rolling it over so that the back of his hand faced her.

Rhys was glad he hadn't gone and installed pain receptors into the damned thing. He was sure Nora's removal of metal panels would have been agonizing. "You're, uh ... you're grounded, right?"

"What?"

"I'm not going to get zapped?"

He mustered a weak smile. "I thought you played with electricity for a living." But he reached under his metallic armpit and felt for a button to switch his limb into maintenance mode. Instantaneously, his arm went limp. If Nora hadn't been holding it, it would have dropped right out of her grip.

"You should probably sit down," she offered. Rhys, already finding himself swimming in uncomfortable situations, decided that standing was his better option.

Nora worked in utter silence, cutting through overloaded wires and splicing them with bits found from the tow truck back along the river. Burned out fuses were a little more difficult to manage, but somehow she was able to make his system work in conjunction with the old-world technology. MacCready, Piper, and Nick all boasted Nora's technological prowess, but he never would have guessed she was anything like this.

It took maybe a minimum of ten minutes. She leaned backwards, hands in the air, and gestured t Rhys with the screwdriver's head. "Give it a whirl?"

He did so by activating his eye the best he could. It wasn't like the ECHO iris that once nestled in his socket, and certain commands would go unheard and unacknowledged. Simple ones still managed. Luckily the light was one of them.

And it flickered to life. Bright white light bathed the room. "Nice!"

Nora acknowledged him with a strikingly minuscule smirk. She replaced the metal panel. When her eye fell upon the newly illuminated teeth marks, she froze. Those had been from her.

Rhys fidgeted. "So ... "

"So," Nora's volume was barely tangible. She followed the jagged cracks with the screwdriver, examining the mangled knuckles that inhibited Rhys' finger movements. This was her new focus and Nora set upon it with rigid determination, gently unfolding ruined metal out from the bends of artificial joints.

"About, um ... About all that ... " She hummed something. Rhys swallowed. "Did you know what you were doing?"

She was too in-tune with her current endeavor to really answer him at first. On the final finger, Nora mus have realized she couldn't avoid it all day and paused. "Yes, and no. I ... It's like I was blindfolded with this unrelenting need to survive. I didn't recognize anybody, but I kept perceiving them as threats whenever they attacked me and ... My body just kind of moved on its own." The Minutemen squirmed a little, as if popping her back, and Rhys remember how wedged in that I.D. drive had been.

"So it ... it wasn't really you that did those things?"

"It was me enough," she said numbly. "Those Captures ... that's what they were called, right? There were moments where I was able to really see their faces, and thinking back on it now I remember some of them from the Glowing Sea. The Children of Atom's main sect was relatively, ah, _tame_ if you didn't present yourself as a threat to them."

"So it was almost like you were possessed."

" _Almost_. I mean **that** didn't really start until further in whenever, well, whenever _you_ popped up." Rhys flinched. Nora responded with a hissing grimace. "Before that it was ... I was in so much _pain_. Everything burned and hurt. I couldn't make sense of anything. I didn't remember who I _was_. By the time I started hearing voices, I was pretty sure I was way off on the deep end."

"Voices?" His anxious question caused her to look his way. She looked almost ashamed.

"Yeaaaah, mayyybe we shouldn't dwell on that," Nora said with a tiny grin. "I'm pretty sure I already sound loony enough as it is - "

"No, _let's_ ," Rhys pushed. For all his prior discomfort, it was Nora who lurched backwards when he finally sat Indian-style on the floor. "There was a point where you started talking in a really deep voice. Er, well, a _manly_ voice. Eyes changed color, too." Nora ran a hand through her hair, slightly paler than before. "I ... might know something about that. Kinda been there myself. Minus the manly voice." Rhys redacted immediately. "My voice is manly enough already. That's what I meant."

"If it makes you feel any better, sure," Nora joked softly.

"Shut up." But he laughed. Nora flashed a grin and he immediately felt relieved. "That _really_ wasn't you, was it?"

Nora took some time to recollect her memories. "I wanted him, man. I wanted the Legate so _badly_." Hands clenched into fists. Knuckles turned white. "Part of me knew he was responsible. It was the only _real_ notion I could hold onto at that point. That if I got to him, it would end. That if I _killed_ him, the pain would stop. And _every single time_ I tried to get close ... " She tapped at her back. Rhys nodded - the drive would electrocute her. "The last time I got shocked, this voice came over me and I lost whatever control I'd had over my body. From that point on, every time I tried to resist, every time I started to _realize_ this wasn't right, he'd punish me with a thorough zapping."

He remembered housing the lunatic in his body. Even though Rhys faltered on trusting Handsome Jack in Old Haven, the A.I. still managed to worm into his systems, hijack his ECHOnet connection, screw with all of his downloaded information ... And thee were several nights when Rhys awoke to find himself somewhere else with no recollection of how he'd gotten there in the first place. And usually with a gun in his hand. Or a knife. How _terrified_ he'd been that one day he'd wake up to find the girls slaughtered - by _his_ hand.

 _That_ was the stuff of nightmares.

"Right up until the end when I ... "

"When you ripped the drive out," Rhys finished grimly.

"Yeah, that hurt like a sonufabitch."

How relieving it had been - how **incapacitatingly** painful - to rip the cybernetics out until Jack's voice and presence was no more.

"Tends to." Nora shot him a strange look. It was Rhys' turn to run his metallic hand through his slicked brown hair. By now the gel was almost completely worn off. It stuck up in places and made him look rather unkempt. And it was smudged with dirt. The 'Scavver Special'. "I'm, uh, talking from experience."

"That's what's got me concerned," she told him.

"Just ... a quick question. Maybe two. Did you catch the name? Did he _say_ his name?"

Nora mused over this. "Handsome something-or-other. Who in the hell puts the word 'Handsome' in their name?"

 _Somebody with striking insecurities about his actual face beneath a mask? Or somebody who's genuinely good-looking and flaunts it?_ Rhys had to admit it: Jack was a looker. He'd been envious of it for a long, long time. "Handsome Jack?"

"Yea, that's it. And of course I'm a little _more_ concerned now."

"Do you still hear him? The voice, I mean?"

Nora shook her head. "Gone when I ripped the spear-thinger out. A drive, you said it was? Like a data drive?"

"Yeah, uhm ... there's a lot to explain." Granted, it wasn't his fault for the drive getting here on Earth. But he felt guilty nonetheless. If only he hadn't uploaded Jack's A.I. into Helios ... but it wasn't like he'd been given a choice ...

"You could start? Like ... _now_ , maybe?" And he really couldn't tell if she was angry, curious, or both.

"Maybe when we're looking for the generator?" he asked hopefully. Vaughn was still a priority. They couldn't take too much time away from helping him. Rhys stood quickly before Nora could reject the idea. She followed suit, holding her abdomen with a wince. He'd almost forgotten she was even wounded. If it was hurting the whole time, Nora concealed it well. "There's, uhm, th-there's a lot to go over to get you up to speed."

"Before we go ... "

Rhys flashed the LED her way. It lit up her face and Nora had to shield her only eye from the blinding glare. He dropped his hand with an apologetic grin. "What's that?"

"I'm, well ... " Nora looked sideways, her gaze sliding to the door and out of sight. "Look, I can't quite explain what happened. I ... still don't get it. But I know I got ... your friend. Killed her. The blue-haired chick. And those other guys - up and vanished with a _scream_." Rhys could have done without the flashback. Maya's empty, bloodied eye sockets burrowed deep in the confines of his wrecked memories. "I wish I could say it wasn't me."

"It wasn't."

Nora wasn't sold, holding the blame firm. "Still me enough. And I fucked up your arm. Leg too, if I remember correctly. I'm ... I'm sorry. To have caused you that kind of ... really ... " She trailed off. Rhys had clenched his human hand into a fist, holding it out in front of her. She couldn't quite register the gesture fast enough. "Are you seriously ... ?"

There was no denying that Maya had been one of the few _decent_ Vault Hunters to back him up, unwilling to cater Lilith's (rather justified) accusations of Hyperion conspiracy. She'd even managed to get Mordecai and Brick to let up. He took comfort in the knowledge that those last two, plus Zer0, weren't dead but somewhere _else_. Yes, Rhys felt horrible guilt and a sense of loss. Yes, he was aware that Nora, in her uncontrollable Siren-beast state, had taken the lives of innocents with a second thought ...

But it wasn't her. Not completely.

Few things in the world were black and white. Only shades of gray.

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging," he coerced, pushing the fist towards her a little. "Come ooooooon!"

"You really want me to _brofist_ you?"she burst, laughing hard, incredulously.

Rhys waved his appendage a little more. He would not be refused. And he was relatively sure his face was looking a little more constipated by the second (since Sasha made it clear that was how he appeared when he thought or tried too hard).

Nora was unable to resist. Her own whitened fist clashed lightly against his. "That's terrible. You're terrible. What a tool."

"Takes a tool to fist bump a tool, Tool."

 

* * *

 

 

"So you ripped your arm off?"

"Yep."

"Eye, too?"

"Well, just the wiring ... "

"Still. You shoved a _glass shard_ in your eye. One might think you were wanting _sharper_ vision. Aha!"

"Terrible!"

"Buuuuuuuut you're laughing."

Crossing back into the stairwell (now armed with Rhys' fully functioning palmar light, thank god), the two had climbed to the sixth floor. The eastern door was defunct here. Crushed by what they could only assume was another cave-in. So they'd gone through the western entrance ... which led to several more cave-ins and a surprising amount of defunct machine-gun turrets.

Past those, a few hanging corpses (now skeletons), and through a pair of double-doors ... and they were looking right down a huge pit. A _pit_. They;d leaned over, whistled, chucked down a rock to see how deep it was. Not a very far fall, considering cliffs and whatnot, but they sure as hell wouldn't survive if they'd decided to go all 'geronimo!' and leap down.

It took long while to figure out how to descend from one floor to the other without any actual ... floor. Or stairs. There were jury-rigged things and planks of wood meant to be connective walkways and steps, all of which creaked and cracked beneath their weight. But no sign of life. And no generator.

"I can't imagine what it must've been like to crawl back to the Dome," Nora continued.

"A week's worth of agony, fever, starvation and dehydration was what it was," Rhys responded. "I don't know how many times I blacked out. Was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it."

"What kept you going?"

The romantic part of him would have said Sasha, but at the time he'd thought she'd left him to die on Helios. Every time he thought of her dreadlocks, or her scent, her smile or bubbling laugh sent his heart into palpitations and crushing pain. (They did the same thing now, but for completely different reasons: anxiety for her safety, the longing to feel her warmth or the brush of her lips ... ) "I was worried about Vaughn. And, I dunno, I was too stubborn to die."

"Sounds familiar," Nora chuckled.

"Yeah, Nicky told me a lot about your excursions. Broken bones and still kicking it."

"What can I say? I'm from a tenacious bloodline. We don't back down."

When they got to (what they thought was) the second floor(?), it became clear they weren't alone. A deep, haggard breathing gasped below. Weak. Feeble. Rhys shone the light down but could find nothing. "That doesn't make me feel secure," he whispered.

"It doesn't sound very strong, does it?" Nora said helpfully, picking up a chipper tone. She was definitely strange - switching from downright brooding earlier to upbeat and eager. "Might be a mole rat. Nothing to really worry about there. C'mon."

Aided by Rhys' glowing hand, they came across a rolled up rope ladder. Nora kicked it over the edge, and the Atlas CEO gave one final sweep of their next destination. "That doesn't look ... savory, does it?"

There was a cage on the floor. It was large enough to fit a brahmin, but it's only occupant was a human skeleton slumped against the back.

Nora wasn't impressed. "Raiders," she said, as if the word alone was the answer for everything horrific blessing the crumbling walls surrounding them.

Rhys searched a little more. His human eye lit up at the sight of some kind of machine tucked away into a partially concealed corridor. "There's something!" he chimed.

She mirrored his expression. "And _that's_ what we're looking for."

No sight of the thing that was wheezing ... so they took it as a slightly tenuous all-clear. Nora did the honors of descending first. Rhys brightened her path, staring down as he stepped warily onto the rope and only relaxing when his skag skin shoes touched dirt. Whatever floor had existed here was long gone, replaced by mounds of torn topsoil and clobbered stone. Dirt and junk piled up in the corners. It was much the same in the corridor, though the floor was intact linoleum and the walls were surprisingly clean.

They approached the generator. No sooner did they get there than Nora was on her knees again, digging, once more, through the knapsack. "And this is why I hoard," she spoke casually, retrieving the fusion core.

"Admittance is the first step, Nora." A middle finger flew his way. So did the core. Rhys fumbled with it, gasping. "The hell - "

"Do the honors?"

"Hah! I'm flattered! Should have worn a tie."

Nora grabbed her ridiculously long blue one possessively. "You can't have mine," she growled adamantly.

"Pffft, I like red ones better anyway." _Let's see ..._ Rhys turned to the generator. It wasn't hard to figure out what went where. Inserting the core went smoothly. A series of buttons lit up. He slapped the large red one with the word 'POWER' etched above it.

And the hospital whirred to life.

Lights all along the walls and ceiling strummed into brilliance. A soft yellow glow cast shadows all around them but made so many more things clear to them. Somewhere out of sight, a ventilation system kicked in. The stale air was replaced with a cool, refreshing breeze. A pair of electric doors to their life clicked - locked, if they hadn't been already. No problem. There was a button to open it if it came to it.

Which it might ...

No.

Which it was _going_ to.

Among all the things revealed by the sudden rekindling of old electronics was the owner of those hoarse, growling breaths. And it was close now - closer than it had been. Huge, lumbering steps approached from behind, honing in on their location. Nora turned first. Her eye widened, lips peeling back and teeth slamming down. "Ffffffff!"

He maybe misjudged her reflexes. _Not anymore_! In a frantic display of survival mode, Nora slammed the door's button, yanked Rhys by the collar, slung him through the double doors and dove in after him. He struck the ground hard with an, "Ooomph!" and his Synth eye crackled to activity, indicating just how much of a shitty situation they were about to get into ...

Because it was either deal with the hulking mass of a _Deathclaw_ or die from radiation poisoning.

Decisions, decisions.

 

* * *

 

 

Leaping headfirst into a hall littered with yellow and white toxic waste barrels was, admittedly, not one of her brighter ideas. But Nora figured it was better than getting ripped into itty bitty pieces by a very hungry Deathclaw.

It was too big to fit into their location, though it certainly _tried_. But the creature's shoulders were too stocky and broad. Maybe if it angled itself properly ... but even that didn't work. It only succeeded in getting caught. Squirming, growling, and hissing, angry teeth snapped, spittle spewed, hot breath splashed against their faces. The both of them scuttled backwards into more danger, as Rhys' squeaking informed her that the radiation levels were sure as shit _not_ decreasing the further in they went.

"Total bullshit," Nora snapped. She glanced down the hallway.

"Stairs!" Rhys gasped, pointing frantically and closing his metallic hand to shut off the LED. "Maybe we can get out!"

"Yeah, but we chained the only door we can get back into! Also, ghouls!"

"Son of a - " There wasn't much of an option. They would have to get past the Deathclaw somehow. "How the hell did it even get in here?"

"Maybe they were feeding it?" Nora suggested. Not that it mattered. The creature's fangs gnashed together again, blind eyes whirling hungry anticipation. It managed to wriggle free from its confines and stalked just beyond the door, hissing and panting. Closer observation granted them the vision of emaciation. Ribs poked through mottled scales. The long, lanky limbs were thinner than what was considered healthy for a monstrous mutation of the Commonwealth.

So it was starving.

Maybe it was _slow_ , too. Nora wasn't going to find out She sure as hell wasn't going to try and run across to the rope ladder. But the longer they lingered, the more poisoned they would get ... She could hold out for longer than a typical human. But what about Rhys? He might succumb.

"What's the readout?" she asked him.

"+12 RADS a second," he responded shakily.

"Shit, stay here!"

"Where would I go?" he called back to her, but Nora was on her feet and moving.

There were rooms in this hall. Maybe there was something useful. Raiders were usually too chem-bound to make clear decisions, but even the most idiotic one would avoid dancing in a radiation bath. So maybe they didn't come through here. And maybe whatever lingered before still remained, unlooted, for them to fiddle with _now_.

Luck, today, was very fickle. At least this time, it was looking out for them.

In the first room was a yellow chest. No lockpicking required, thank heavens. And full of items. Usefuls. Armor. Ammunition. As much as she wanted to grab them and stockpile, they weren't what she was looking for.

But there were frag mines.

"Oh you wonderful ... !" Nora slung one up to her lips and kissed it deeply. "I love you I love you I love you - "

"Nora?!'

"Coming!"

She returned to Rhys' side. He didn't look much better than before, but she was having a hard time figuring out if he was pale because of fear or because of radiation. The Deathclaw had ambled away, but kept close enough to whirl in a moment's notice.

Nora crouched down and thrust the frag mines into Rhys' confused arms. "So, I'm going to show you how to work these."

"Why?" he demanded, plucking one from the pile to examine it.

"Because I'm going to run out there and distract Claw n' Tooth. And while I'm doing that, you're gonna lay these down at the entrance."

Rhys swallowed. Hard. "You're kidding."

"Would you rather be glowing soup?" When he went silent, Nora took the reigns. "See this button?" she asked him, pointing to a little yellow circle. "When you're ready to throw it, push that. Then chuck it. And make sure you stay clear of them afterwards." Nora straightened, popped her back, grimaced against the burning sensation of her abdomen's festering hole. "Ready?"

"Ha ... ha ... honestly, no!"

"So we're in the same boat, then!" She shot him a wink. "Remember, we're n the world of 'Winging It'!"

Gloved hands clapped together. Nora inhaled a trembling breath. _Game time ... let's do this!_

If there was one good thing about their shared wireframe bodies, it was that it meant they were nimble-footed and flexible. She was glad she wasn't huge, like Strong, or cumbersome, like Danse in his power armor. But she _wasn't_ happy about being the group's primary scout. First to lead, first to die. What a life.

_I hate my life._

Zipping into view, Nora bounded into the main arena. Dirt clouds kicked up beneath her boots. (Rhys was on his feet, fumbling with butterfingers at first but easing himself into a repetitive motion after the first mine was thrown.) She whistled. The Deathclaw spun. It lowered, bristling, haunches at the ready. Nora hadn't been prepared for it to leap. Ducking just in time, she could feel the dew-claws raze slightly across her back and wondered if it had torn through her Silver Shroud jacket.

_No time to dwell on that!_

Her legs sprung into action before her brain could conceive the activity. The motion kept the Deathclaw's attention on her and not on Rhys. The tail swung outwards, aiding it's pinpoint turn. The moment it touched the earth, it was charging and Nora wasn't sure if she was going to be fast enough -

There was another entrance to the corridor ahead. She jumped into it, hung left, and _ran_. So too did the Deathclaw. Lighter than the average meat-grinder though it may have been, the creature was still heavy as hell. Momentum forced it into a slamming collision. The whole world shook.

Nora took the corner too fast and slid, nearly losing her footing. She was happy for quickened response-time, using her hands to steady herself back into a solid dash. Earth-shattering footfalls signaled the Deathclaw's recovery and it tore after her with newfound hatred, roaring all the way.

Back to the double doors ... the generator was ahead ... the mines were set. Nora held her breath. Ten feet, eight, nine ... At five, she leaped. Her boots cleared the mines but they still sensed her close proximity and began beeping frantically. She tucked and rolled past Rhys, who, to her surprise, flung himself atop her to act as a human shield.

The Deathclaw was moving too quickly to stop now. Nora wondered for a moment if it recognized the sound of danger and realized what exactly it was running into. Maybe it tried to skid to a halt. _Maybe_. But all she could see was the arrival of scaled legs and lethal claws, stumbling right into the mines as they went off one by one.

Smoke filled the air. The ceiling and floor rocked. Lights flickered, faded, and rejuvenated once more. Those were fine compared to the spray of blood and shredded meat that overcame them like a red tsunami in a scene straight out of _The Shining_.

Through gasps and wheezes, Nora could not contain herself ... because while, yeah, it _sucked_ that they were coated in Deathclaw innards, Rhys's sacrificial gesture meant he was the one to receive the brunt of it. And the way his expression melted into one of complete slack-jawed demoralization and traumatized disgust was just too much _not_ to laugh at.

"You've got some red on you," she managed to squeeze past the breathless snorts and giggles.

Suit pouted, rolling off. "So much ... grossness ... " He stood with a struggle, held his arms out to his sides and gave a little wriggle. Chunks of Deathclaw flesh fell off him in sloppy heaps that splooshed onto the ground. Rhys' entire backside was positively _soaked_ with blood. "Second time in my life this hap - I can't - _hngghhh_ \- "

He started to heave towards the demolished Deathclaw carcass. Nora jumped up in time to steer him away. "Hey now, don't need you spewing in our dinner."

She was pretty sure that made him puke harder.


	22. My Hippocratic Oath, Part 2

The sound of plodding footsteps indicated her troops' arrival, snuffing whatever jolting surprise Piper Wright would have suffered as they barged through the surgical room door.  
  
"Honey, we're home!" Nora bleated, beaming positively through the mixture of blood and dirt smearing her abnormally pale facial features. Gloved fingers victoriously displayed an old cooking pot. "We brought _take-out_!"  
  
Piper scrunched her nose. "Take-out?" she asked, the reference floating over her head upon thermals of futuristic obliviousness. "I don't get it. Take what out?"  
  
"It's - because - you know - " Relenting with a defeated sigh, Nora whimpered, "Alas, you will never know the etiquette of fine fast-food cuisine."  
  
"Oooo ... kay?" The reporter was about to inquire her condition, concern masquerading behind furrowed eyebrows and angled hips. Nora's pallor complexion routinely made signs of medical ailments complex and undiscernible. Was she bleeding out, going into shock? Was that blood even _her's_? "What the hell - "  
  
Rhys strode quietly into the room on insanely long legs. _Come see Piper Wright's Traveling Circus! Available only in the Commonwealth!_ Head bent and shoulders sagging, the CEO's mouth was quirked downwards with unsettled emotions rising high. He looked up long enough to glance at Vaughn - still unconscious, leaning against the Mark IX AutoDoc (which was now alight with blinking blue lights) - and Piper could see stains of crimson marring his features, as well. But they were deeper, redder, and covered _a lot more_ of him than it did Nora.  
  
"I feel sick," he groaned.  
  
"Oh my god ... What the hell happened to you?"  
  
"Deathclaw," Nora responded.  
  
Rhys uttered a kind of whining weep. "They're just freakin' - " he stopped, eyes widening, and rephrased his sentence as though he'd said something terrible, " - they're drawn to me. And my _suit_ is **_ruined_**."  
  
"Deathclaw go _boom_." The Minutemen general had all the tact of a psychopath, her singular eye gleaming almost menacingly. Was she enjoying this? Maybe a little too much? Then again, she'd been out of action for two years ... "Exploded it. With frag mines. Hence, " she held the pot up again, " _dinner_."  
  
Atlas gagged.  
  
"I'm sure it's not _that_ baa _aaa_ \- " Piper recoiled as Rhys did a little twirl. The heavy metal odor of lizard blood and mine residue forced an unpleasant combination against her olfactories. His backside was completely matted with a faint, wet discoloration. The lighter-colored portions of his attire were stained several brilliant shades of burgundy. Thick globules caked within the creases of his vest. And that wasn't even taking into account the globules of nastiness dusting his neck and tangling his _hair_. "It's - oh - it's pretty bad."  
  
"Yeah," he bemoaned. "Yeah ... yeah I know."  
  
"We could probably find a change of clothes for you." Piper glanced about. "Somewhere."  
  
"I just want a shower ... "  
  
"You can clean up somewhere in here. I'm sure a few of the sinks still work. Water might not be the best quality, though." Rhys didn't look like he cared if it was filtered or non-filtered.  
  
Nora set the pot down. Piper could see the wretched flesh sloshing about on the inside. "AutoDoc's up?"  
  
"Yeah." The reporter nodded to the machine in question. "It started humming. And swishing. It's doing a thing. Said it was sanitizing."  
  
The general tapped a screen. "It's done now. Wanna help me load him up?"  
  
Rhys wearily watched them heft the undersized male up by his shoulders. Fortunately, the bandit king's choice of clothing - or lack thereof - meant he didn't have to be stripped down of much anything. They'd pulled the neck-wrap off, but that was all. Vaughn would have been easier to handle if it hadn't been for his dead weight and ragdoll limbs. A few minutes of figuring out what went were and the Child of Helios was snug and secure in the machine's confines.

Atlas' apprehension grew while Piper and Nora tried to figure out the AutoDoc's controls, only becoming at ease when they withdrew satisfactorily, the medical wonder stirring into activity from its lengthy hibernation. A series of statistics flashed across the screen. Then vitals. HR: 121. BP: 122/51. RESP: 31. SPO2: 96%. RADS: 98.  
  
A harsh _whuff_ of air loudly exhumed from the machine and everybody practically leaped from their skins. Together they watched the vitals shift: Respirations decreased; Pulse oximetry rose; Blood radiation lowered.  
  
More text scrolled across the screen.

DNA ANALYSIS STARTING.

  
DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

  
BLOOD TYPE AB- DETECTED. SYNTHESIZING REPLACEMENT FLUIDS.  
  
BLOOD INFECTION INDICATED. INFECTION TYPE: SEPSIS.

PROCESSING ANTIBODIES. DISPENSING MED-X.  
  
This continued for a little while longer. When Vaughn didn't start hollering bloody murder, the group gradually relaxed.  
  
Poor Rhys, though ... Piper watched him fidget back and forth, scratching at his neck and running his fingers through rigid clumps of his hair where the blood had dried. She grimaced. "We'll keep an eye on him. Why don't you go ... wash up? There was a sink in the last room before here."  
  
"Might hafta go there to salvage some water later, anyhow," Nora muttered, more to herself than anybody else.  
  
Atlas didn't say much of anything. His current coating of red was making him ... unsettled. Rhys turned and stiffly strutted through the door, squeezing past Buttboy as the Protectron completed its tenth patrol down the hallway.  
  
Nora was calculating ... something. Her eyes were far off. Piper had to clear her throat to draw the general back out of her trance. "Whassat?"  
  
"Help him find some clothes?"  
  
"Oh yeah, well ... " Singular teal eye brightening, Nora held the pot in front of her. "Trade?"  
  
Piper took the appliance, wrinkling her nose at the gelatin-like glob of meat nestled inside. A strong, gamey scent lingered with it. Deathclaw meat looked so unappetizing when raw. But cooked just right, it was so succulent ... The reporter's stomach cried outrage and she found her mouth watering. "Dinner, huh?"  
  
"Yep. Figure you and I could get a little fire going in a bit - once we know if Vaughn's going to be okay," Nora told her, voice dropping so that Rhys might not hear her in passing. A tinge of uncertainty hung about her voice. The darkness hedging her visage made it clear that Cait's recent death was still heavy on the mind.  
  
"Are you ... are you doing okay, Nora?"  
  
"Hmm?" She jerked again, blinked rapidly, then nodded. "Yeah. Of course. I'll be right back."  
  
And Nora slipped through the doorway without another word, leaving Piper to stare after her with a moderately heavy pot in her hands.  
  
__________________  
  
Twenty minutes later, Nora whistled at Rhys' retreating backside to get his attention as he emerged from another room with soaking hair and dripping wet skin. He yelped, easily jumping about five feet into the air. The general barked a laugh.  
  
"Scare easily?" she teased.  
  
Once he'd settled on the ground, Rhys drew in a long, shaky breath. "N-no," he stammered, convincing no one. He ran his cybernetic hand through his hair in a futile attempt to make his exterior look less frazzled. "No. Not scared. You didn't spook me. Just ... _startled_ me, that's all. It's really quiet here."  
  
"You're _really_ not helping your case," Nora chided, grinning broadly. "C'mere, I've got some clothes for you."  
  
"I think I'll just keep the suit - "  
  
"It's completely _drenched_. And you'll start smelling pretty ripe in no time. That's not only going to make traveling with you _extremely sucky_ , but it'll draw a lot of Wasteland critters, too." Extended a hand, Nora bent her finger in a 'come hither' fashion. "Come on. I don't bite."  
  
Heaving a deeply regretting sigh, Rhys dutifully followed her into what had once been a waiting room. The chairs and tables, long broken, had been dismantled and thrown aside, the television shattered in it's lonely corner. A pile stacked high with personal effects decorated the floor's middle.  
  
He rose a brow. "So what do you have for me?"  
  
"I think this," Nora told him, kicking the dune lightly, "is leftover stuff from ransacked caravans and mugged settlers." She plucked a tattered-looking brown jacket from the mix. It was grungy with dirt and worn patches, just like the khaki jeans and long-sleeved olive-tinted shirt that came with it. They were worse for wear, but at least they weren't weighed down with clotting blood. "Not exactly your name-brand clothes, but they'll do ... ?"  
  
Honestly, Nora looked about as grossed-out as Rhys felt just _looking_ at the ensemble. He tugged helplessly at his vest. "I'd really rather ... keep this, you know?"  
  
"Yea ... " Nora frowned, sized up the mess, and chucked everything but the coat back into the pile. "At least take the jacket," she ordered, thrusting it at him. "It's getting colder out. Keep you from catching a cold or flu. That vest you're wearing won't do a damn thing."  
  
Rhys fumbled with the jacket's thick material. It was probably really warm, but he was too flustered to try it on. And too ... Metal fingers scrabbled at his shoulders. "But the suit's so _itchy_."  
  
"Well if you're gonna complain about that, change your clothes," chuckled the general. "Unless you think you can live for the trip to the Castle. You can wash everything there. Or in the Institute. I mean, lookit, at least you're wearing _black_. Do you know how _hard_ it is to get blood stains out of blue?"  
  
"Actually ... " He thought back to the giant skag in Bossonova's death arena, and how he'd spent the night tirelessly scrubbing at his precious pinstripe blouse (vividly aware, much to his chagrin at the time, of how Sasha stifled a giggle every time he cursed frustrated indignation at Pandora's wretched landscape).  
  
"We should probably find something for Vaughn," Nora said and Rhys snapped out of his stupor. "A jacket. And a _shirt_ , for fuck's sake."  
  
He snorted, bending at the knee to rifle through the clothing. "Ripped abs make you uncomfortable?"  
  
She laughed. "Lord no. Let's be honest, that's _hot_." Rhys nodded confirmation, earning a raised eyebrow from Nora. "But walking around the Commonwealth shirtless is like ... taking something out of an oven without wearing mitts. Ya get me? No protection from the elements or ghoul claws. Who _does_ that?"  
  
"Bandits do."  
  
"Was he a bandit back on Pandora?"  
  
"Nah. Accountant." After careful thought, he added, "Though he could steal _money_ like a bandit."  
  
" _Nice_." Mouth propping open to cater an assail of continuing conversation, her slack-jawed gaze fell briefly on something within the clothing hill. Nora's lonely eye narrowed, fostering peculiar consternation - and it remained that way until Rhys' quizzical expression drew her away. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked suddenly, whatever floundered her apparently dissipating. "Sick? Queasy?"  
  
His eyes fluttered. "I - what?"  
  
"The radiation from before. You took a hefty dose. Not feeling any effects?"  
  
It slowly dawned on him that really, he _hadn't_. "Nothing harsh. I mean, a little _blegh_ at first but, yeah, that's it." Strange. His exposure earlier that week had earned him - and the entire caravan - a trip to Puke Central and Fatigue Square. "Maybe I just got lucky, huh?"  
  
Nora's lips twisted with perplexion. "Yeah. Maybe." She poked her eye's tear duct. "Can you get a reading on yourself?"  
  
He tried. A myriad of numbers flashed across the lens - glitching. "Ooooh, that's new." Rhys thumped his temple, but the troubleshoot failed to do anything but throttle his vision. ""So I maybe knocked my head ... again ... "  
  
"Maybe you got blood in that head-hole-thing?"

" _Cranial port_ , and **_eughhh_** I'd rather not _think_ about that ... " He enunciated his disgust with a shudder.  
  
"You could probably clean it up when we get back to the Institute ... How do - how do you even _maintain_ that thing? Who puts a _hole_ in their _head_?"  
  
Rhys rose his robotic hand slowly. "Me?" he replied meekly.  
  
" _Why_?"  
  
"Big dreams and bad decisions."  
  
Nora levelled a grin at him. "Sounds like college."  
  
He cackled.  
  
Together, they found a tangled mess that was a jacket lined with various pockets along the waist. It was longer than your traditional jacket, and would be _huge_ on Vaughn. But, "This is the Gunner's logo," Nora explained, indicating the black skull tagging its back. "Not sure if it's a good idea to be sporting _this_ but ... it's really _thick_."  
  
"I'm sure it will be fine," said Rhys, though he wasn't exactly sure of his own convictions. "Maybe." The Gunners were a mercenary outfit. Didn't MacCready used to run with them? Didn't Fiona get her ankle _broken_ by a commander?  
  
And then there were more thoughts of the sisters. Of Sasha, in particular. He must have vacated his own brain for a little longer than he thought, because Nora's whistle snapped him to and he became aware of her hand waving wildly before his face.  
  
"Earth to Rhys, ya there?"  
  
_"Pandora to Rhys!"_  
  
At least Nora didn't try and touch his cranial port, though she _was_ giving him the oddest stare. "Y-yeah. I'm good. Totally fine."  
  
Nora wasn't sold. She nodded towards the door. "Why don't you go bring those back to the room? Vaughn should be done soonish. I'm sure he'd appreciate the coat." Wordlessly, _numbly_ , Rhys found his footing. "Oh, and Rhys?"  
  
"Mmm?" he queried, blinking at her.  
  
"Don't you worry." And Nora winked, smiling from ear to ear. "We'll get you back to your lady love in no time."  
  
He took solace in that, visibly relaxing despite his reddening cheeks. "Uh - well - how long will it take us to get there?"  
  
"Day and a half, two days tops if the weather holds up and we don't get any interruptions." Making 'shoo, shoo!' gesticulations with flexible wrists, the general ushered him off. "Now go."  
  
The Atlas CEO started out the door, pausing briefly at the frame. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm going to scavenge a bit." A shadow crossed her eyes. Rhys didn't question it.  
  
Once he was a good ways down the hallway, Nora stuck her hand back into the pile - painstakingly removing something small and soft and pale blue. It wasn't unusual to find all manner of things roosting about a raider encampment, but not ... not _this_ ...  
  
She ran her thumbs over the plush baby's onesie with cold placidity. It felt like several stones of raw iron replaced her insides, each one chilled in the frozen chambers of a cryogenic facility. _Shaun used to wear one just like this ..._  
  
How she longed to hear his infantile giggles; to coo and tickle him, his mouth brimming into a gummy smile; to touch the soft palms of his too-small hands as they grappled her finger -

\- like they'd grappled that gun - barrel thrust beyond his aged teeth - the hammer swinging forth - remorseful eyes unbreaking as the light faded from them in an explosion of red and gray -

Nora dropped the onesie, rubbed her eye, and leaned into the bend of her arm.  
  
No amount of passed time would cleanse that memory.  
  
__________

Maybe she was gone for a little longer than she'd thought. Perhaps an hour? When she returned, Piper was on her feet, pistol in hand and a determined frown scrawled across her worried face, prepared to march through the door to search for her lost companion. In an instant, Piper's wrinkles aged her well beyond her years.  
  
Their eyes met and Nora smiled weakly at Piper's harsh scowl. "You're _late_ ," growled the reporter.  
  
"Yeaaaaaaah, long night at the office," Nora chipped weakly, offering a little smile to dissuade Piper's pending rage. The quip didn't have quite the effect she was hoping for, but Piper at least allowed her shoulders to sag.  
  
"We thought raiders might've gotten to you," Rhys called over, his own voice somewhat strained. He was sitting Indian-style in the middle of the room with the stun baton placed in front of him. His long fingers drummed restlessly along its smooth black surface.  
  
"I found some gizmos," she replied confidently, depositing a large duffel bag onto the ground. The wires and metal devices inside clanged hard against the cracked linoleum floor. Curious eyes watched her left hand - or rather, the bloody item clenched between her frail fingers. "Oh, and I went back downstairs for this."  
  
There was nothing compared to the weight - and the brutality - of a severed Deathclaw appendage. Rhys visibly pallored. He scooted backwards as though worried the detached limb would reanimate and attack. "W- _why_ did you get _that_?!"  
  
Piper was unimpressed. But she smirked wryly, shaking her head sluggishly from side to side. "Some things never change, huh Blue? Two years underwater and you're still at it."  
  
Nora flashed her pearly whites. "You know it."  
  
"Seriously, what the _hell_ \- !" Rhys flailed his lanky arms. "Why did - how could - that's _gross_ \- "  
  
"I'll show you in a bit," Nora winked. And then she tossed it at him for the hell of it. He shrieked (like a woman who saw a mouse!), backpedaling on his ass until his back struck the far wall next to the AutoDoc ...

... which, by the way, was no longer _closed_. And Vaughn was no longer _inside_.  
  
"Ohhh, it's done?" asked Nora as she crossed the room to observe. The accountant was placed onto the floor in a sitting position. He was still asleep - eyes closed and comatose. But his breathing had slowed and his skin looked fairly _normal_ now. He was even snoring! Rhys, or Piper, had done him a favor by covering his upper body. That Gunner jacket was really monstrous on him. "How's he doing? How're the stitches?"  
  
"I don't think he's ... got any?" Piper tried to answer. The reporter advanced with Nora, standing at her back as the general got on her knees to lift Vaughn's shirt and investigate the incision. "I don't see any, you know, threaded bits or anything. And it's really ... really ... " Words failed her, and Nora could see why.  
  
The wound was almost completely _gone_. A faint scar was the only dominating presence hinting a traumatic injury even existed. "How did _that_ happen?"  
  
Piper tapped her shoulder. Enclosed between her gloved fingers was a small piece of paper the width of a receipt. "This came out of the machine. It's all medical mumbo jumbo. I can't make sense of it."  
  
Nora studied it for a long while. "It's a report of everything the machine did." It was safe to assume that not all of it had been displayed on the AutoDoc's exterior screen in order to ensure HIPPA compliance. Patient confidentiality was a big thing back in the day, but she kept this information to herself. Piper and Rhys didn't really need to know. Clarifying it wouldn't benefit them in any way. She looked over the slip for any keywords, slapping it with a finger and a victorious noise when she found one. "They gave him frequent injections of the hormone thymosin."  
  
"Thy-what-now?"  
  
" _Thymosin_. It stimulates white blood cells into maturity and makes them active. Basically, his healing rate got jacked up." Nora pressed the back of her hand against Vaughn's former infection. It was moderately warm to the touch but definitely cooler than it had been. The inflammation was completely gone. She lowered his shirt and gave his chest a gentle pat. "He looks a _hell_ of a lot better." Vaughn stirred slightly, repositioning himself and falling into a deeper slumber. Nora looked between Rhys and Piper (the former of which was eyeing the Deathclaw hand like it was a poisonous snake). "Who's next?"  
  
"Huh?" Rhys was clearly distracted, though he offered a quick glance with his golden Synth eye.  
  
"Who's next to get checked up? Piper's chest got a little roughed up from that whole CPR ordeal." Nora cringed, remembering the distinct _pop_ every time the cartilage separated during compressions. "And you're probably irradiated."  
  
"You need it more, Blue. With that big ass hole in your belly, I'm surprised you haven't either bled to death or gotten an infection like Vaughn did."  
  
"And the bug bite," Rhys commented with a teasing smirk. Nora shot him a vicious frown. "I'm just saying. It probably _itches_."  
  
It _did_ , but that was beside the point. Nora got to her feet, grabbed the Deathclaw hand, and proceeded to approach him with it. "C'mere," she goaded, prodding the limb towards his face. He continued to slink backwards and Nora continued to pursue him. "It just wants to _shake hands_!"  
  
"Ohmigawd, get it away!"  
  
" _Children_ , please!"  
  
Nora enjoyed another minute of bullying before gently tossing the hand into Rhys' lap (his mortified shrieks and thrashing limbs - " _Getitoffgetitoff_!" - providing a choice backdrop for the general's semi-masochistic dark laughter). She walked to the Mach IX, straightening her blue tie and then promptly realizing she'd have to shed it, along with everything else on her torso.  
  
"This is going to suck."  
  
"Which part? The going into another tube part, or the stripping part?" Piper leaned against the wall, reflexively pulling a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She stuffed one into her mouth, considered their location, and thought better of lighting it - _just yet_.  
  
"I meant the getting naked part," Nora sighed. "But thanks for reminding me that I'm about to be in yet _another_ enclosed space."  
  
"Maybe you were Cram in a past life."  
  
The general stuck out her tongue. " _Ew_. Why Cram? Why couldn't I be, like, a _sardine_?"  
  
"You'd rather be a sardine?"  
  
"It's better than being cow lips and assholes."  
  
"What's a cow?" Nora stared at her. Piper laughed, waving her hand. "I'm kidding!"  
  
Running her fingers through her silvery-white hair, the Minutemen faction leader exhaled slowly. "Fine," she grunted, sliding the Silver Shroud coat off of her shoulders. It was soft to the touch - the black leather worn from years of abuse. "I'm about to streak so - avert thine eyes."  
  
"Just think about that one time in Goodneighbor."  
  
That earned Rhys' abrupt attention. One eye became half-lidded, his smile broad and disbelieving. "Come again?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Piper chortled. She removed the cigarette from her maw, repackaging it with bright, twinkling eyes. "This one here decided to _sprint_ through old Ghoul town with not a damn bit of shame. _That_ wasn't bad, really ... " Piper fidgeted slightly, scratching her flushed cheek. "What was _bad_ was Hancock joining her in a fucking _marathon run_."  
  
"Hey, I'm not at all bashful." The CEO blinked at Nora, who was in the middle of undoing her combat armor. "But I _was_ really _high_ at the time ... "  
  
" _You_? High?"  
  
"Took a hit of Psycho to get out of a really, really bad situation with Super Mutants ... " She grinned sheepishly. "It's like ... taking, ah ... Crap. What can I compare it to? A lot of Ghouls that used to be drug dealers back before the bombs say it's something like cocaine - and _no_ , I never did _that_ ," she added before the pending question could escape Rhys' mouth. "The most I ever did back then was, ah, weed back in college? A bunch of us used to sneak down to the river at night." She fondly recalled watching Nate fall over himself - and the hill - into the water one night.  
  
Rhys snorted. " _Terrible_."  
  
Nora guffawed. "Oh, like _you've_ never done anything bad, Mister High-and-Mighty CEO?"  
  
He touched his metal arm, looking partially smug and slightly abashed. "Ahhh ... maybe a little during crunch time before finals ... "  
  
They both looked at Piper. She shrugged. "Don't look at me," she told them. "I've never been big on chems. Got poisoned once. But that doesn't count, does it?"  
  
"Nope." Without regard of who might be looking, Nora removed her black shirt. She definitely underestimated the amount of sweat they'd perspired during their run-in at Sanctuary hills and the mirelurk fight. The garment had to be _peeled_ from her skin. She voiced disgust, running the material over her hands. "This needs a good washing ... " It did kind of stink, and, "Holy _shit_ , I just need a new damn _shirt_." Her fingers poked through one too many holes, previously concealed by the long coat and armor.  
  
Standing with nothing on her torso but her bra - and even _that_ was falling to pieces - Nora glanced over her shoulder when Piper wolf-whistled. "Show it all!" laughed the reporter.  
  
"Way to make shit awkward as hell, Pipes," she scolded.  
  
And from Rhys' corner, a whispered, "Holy hell."  
  
Nora whipped her head around, prepared to air a disapproving remark, but found his eyes glued not to her assets, but the various markings scrawled upon her flesh. She'd never really considered them being anything special before. The general dropped her shirt and stretched, looking down at herself. The abdominal gorge was still exposed to the world but had crusted along the edges with dried blood. Just above that was a large, rounded scar - just one in the dozens of permanent reminders scattered about her pale skin.  
  
She often wondered how she'd gotten lucky enough not to get any on her face. Well, that was changed now ... what with the missing eye ...  
  
"That's .. That's a lot of ... " Nora couldn't make heads or tails of his expression. Sympathy? Sorrow? Pain? He definitely appeared uncomfortable. "How many ... ? Wow ... "  
  
Subconsciously, Nora touched the circular etching above the gaping, more recent injury and swallowed hard. "Just a testament," she told him, "to the life out here, Suit. Everybody's got more than their fair share."  
  
Maybe now he finally realized that she was half-naked, because Rhys very quickly looked away with a few blinks. "Agh - sorry!"  
  
Nora kicked off her shoes and slid out of her jeans, momentarily taking in the same visage that littered her lower half. When she finally stepped into the AutoDoc, it was with a foreboding sense of apprehension that made her feel as though she were choking. It took several long, deep breaths to calm her rising heart beat - a painstaking process as the door slid closed and the machine's many arms descended upon her.  
  
There was a screen on the interior just as there was one on the exterior. A mechanical arm to her left slid a needle into the crux of her arm. Another enclosed her right bicep with a blood pressure cuff. A series of blue-green lights illuminated an arch above her head.  
  
HR: 98. BP: 102/78. RESP: 16. SPO2: 98%. RADS: 237.  
  
The AutoDoc _breathed_. Though she felt no difference, Nora watched her radiation level drop.  
  
DNA ANALYSIS STARTING.

  
DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE. WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED! PLEASE SPEAK WITH YOUR DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY.  
  
Nora twitched. It must be referring to her genetic mutation ...  
  
BLOOD TYPE O- DETECTED. SYNTHESIZING REPLACEMENT FLUIDS.  
  
TRAUMATIC INJURIES DETECTED.

PROCESSING ANTIBODIES. DISPENSING MED-X.  
  
That made her flinch. Two years of being drugged into submission ... Nothing could be done about it now. But her skin was crawling when the needle arm removed, switched bores, and drove into her vein a second time.  
  
She felt a feathery fringe encompass her mind. Visuals became blurry, her breathing slowed ... And as she closed her eye, Nora could barely make out the flashing red notification glaring off the display: SPECIAL CONSIDERATION DETECTED. PLEASE SEE PRINTOUT.

______________  
  
  
_Sleep was meant to provide a tired body the rest it needed to sustain itself for another day. This drug-induced coma did nothing of the kind. All it brought were vile dreams: corroding buildings; hellish landscapes; nightmarish rekindling of moments long past.  
  
Nate's grinning face, that ever-present blush creasing his cheeks. His black tuxedo. Their wedding day. Burly fingers sliding the golden band about her fingers. Leaning her head back for the kiss that mirrored the depth of their love.  
  
The church altar froze over. Ice contained the holy ground. Constriction by metal and machine. Nate, now pale, no silent ... slumping back into a hardened wall, fresh blood pooling about his eyes, his nose, his mouth - staining that once-handsome face with life fluid escaping the newly-opened hole in his skull.  
  
Shaun: Crying, red-faced, and damp. How he'd thrashed in the hospital. Handed to her, Nora pressed her face to his head and caught that newborn scent that sent her heart throbbing (a small and strange delight, her father once told her, of being a parent ... of first meeting your child ... ) Tears stopped, whines settled into a gurgle. Her warmth met his lack of it. He'd curled. And sighed. And slept.  
  
When Nora removed her hands, his head was full of whitish-gray hair and wrinkled. Matted. Red. Gray eyes lifeless. His body cold. Sharing Nate's fate, some 200 years in the future. Crimson splashing the Institute's pristine white walls as a hail storm of bullets rained death upon unsuspecting scientists.  
  
Danse ...  
  
Paladin Danse ...  
  
There was a scent unlike any other: burning steel and laser residue. Light hazel orbs watching her every move betwixt the scar running jagged along his face. Eyebrows arched. His arms - strong - and hands - calloused - awkwardly closing around her. Touching his face, his stubble coarse against synthetic skin that felt so real. How he'd bent slightly at the shoulder, always just a little taller than her but not by much.  
  
Romance was an alien concept to him. He'd hesitated, hovering just slightly above her face - unable to close the space between them. Fleeting relief (and terror) as Nora did that favor for him. She did not expect his lips to be so soft. Tense shoulders remained rigid only seconds longer. They slumped, muscles slowly relaxing. He let her lead him into uncharted territory: breaking the fusion only to breathe. His content sigh stifled by her leaning into him once more and he pulled her closer.  
  
His steel-encased back turning to her - vanishing through the smoke, the debris clouds, the hellfire that was the Prydwen -_

 _\- crashing on all sides; the floor giving way; falling through shards of glass and twisted metal ... Maxson's angry eyes searing beyond her hand, clenched tight about his rigid throat -._  
  
_Nora felt moisture on her cheeks. Was she crying? In her dreams, or while she slept?_  
  
_Sudden blistering heat burned the moisture away._  
  
_"Please ... help mama ... "_  
  
_Within a room now. Everything was too big. Doors arched far above her head. Desks and tables were level with her. Had she shrunk? But a glimpse of her hands - of her body - revealed her youthful appearance. A child._  
  
_Heat and acrid fumes burned her eyes, made her blink._  
  
_A reddish glow. Blackened smoke. Crackling. Breaking furniture. Popping glass._  
  
_Nora stumbled forward, tiny hand balled into a fist before her mouth. The unbearable hotness forced her to her knees._  
  
_"Please ... "_  
  
_A voice. Who?_  
  
_She knew this scenery. Knew it well. Saw it in her wildest night terrors as a child. Relived it every day until young adulthood caught up with her and forced them into submission._  
  
_Crawling through the rooms one by one, searching with one hand. Darkness was overcoming. Smoke lowered from the ceiling, threatening to touch the ground._  
  
_"Mama ... please ... "_  
  
_She knew the voice._  
  
_Knew it because ..._  
  
_"Mama ... help me ... "_  
  
_It was her own._  
  
_Heart rushing into her throat. Suffocation. Realization that death was coming - that terrible blackness which knew no end. Desperation. Loneliness. She couldn't find the kitchen. Couldn't find the door to get outside. Couldn't find her mother. Couldn't find her -_

 _\- she touched a hand._  
  
_It was impossibly hot and cold at the same time. Small like her own, palm turned skyward. Nora, unaware if she was hallucinating or really touching it, pressed upward. Followed the arm, found the shoulder, the neck, the face, the mouth - lips dry and cracked._  
  
_They moved: only slightly. Weak breathing, raspy, hoarse._  
  
_" ... Nor ... "_  
  
_And Nora jolted. Was it a sob? Or a cry? She'd tried to call his name -_

 _\- and a horrifying cacophony of twisting metal and splintering wood drowned out any and all noise. So loud - so **close**. Above them. Around them. Atop them. Crushing. Hot.  
  
Dark.  
  
"PROCEDURE COMPLETE. PLEASE REMOVE THE PATIENT FROM - "_  
_  
_________________  
  
_ " - THE AUTODOC. THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING KENDALL HOSPITAL."  
  
The machine's sigh was so loud, so close, that Rhys jumped from his unprecedented slumber. Exhausted eyes watched blearily as the door swung open. Exhuming a healing mist from its confines, effectively concealing the woman within. A single pale hand extended from the depths. It clasped the entrance frame's cold metal, knuckles whiter than flesh and, from what the CEO could gather, _plastered_ in sweat. So was the rest of her, really: flushed, dripping, and wide-eyed. Like she'd awoken from a nightmare.  
  
He'd completely forgotten she was _nude_ until the fact became present, and Rhys averted his eyes hastily. Nora'd at least managed to drape her arm across her chest for concealment before closing the AutoDoc door and striding to where she'd left her clothes. The medical wonder _whoosh_ ed, the screen display springing to life with the word 'SANITIZING' stretched across it.  
  
During the hour-long wait, Piper had gotten to work kicking up a campfire. A little one, but something nonetheless. Rhys helped about as much as he could - rummaging for kindling and fishing the lighter from Nora's jacket. They'd broken the board off the window in the hallway to let the smoke out when it started to choke them, allowing chilled, wintery air to breeze on through.  
  
Piper was sitting there now, tending the flames alongside a sleepy-faced Vaughn who'd crept his way towards the emanating warmth in his sleep. The reporter whistled at Nora and Rhys couldn't tell if it was meant to be flirtatious or in response to the general's wound-mending.  
  
Apparently the latter. "That looks a shit ton better, Blue."  
  
"Really?"

Clothes rustled. Rhys gave it another few seconds before daring to glance her way. Nora remained in the raggedy shirt and pants, temporarily abandoning the armor and jacket in favor of comfort. She was still sweaty. And was she shaking? _Because of the Med-X wearing off, maybe?_  
  
Nora lifted her shirt just slightly. The gaping hole was gone now, just another scar among the multitude. Long fingers pressed against the pallor belly and he thought of the life writhing around beyond her touch. Her pregnancy was a subject Rhys couldn't find himself touching upon. How exactly could he bring that up? _"By the way, a Siren told us you're pregnant. Even though you've been floating in a tube for two years. Dunno who knocked you up, but happy motherhood!"_ Yeah. It didn't sound good in his head, and it sure as hell wouldn't sound any better expelling from his mouth.  
  
And hadn't she killed her own son?  
  
"Goodie! No cavernous opening," Nora breathed.  
  
"Shhhbbetter," Rhys slurred. He wasn't aware of how tired he'd been. How tired he _still was_. But one eyelid was already drooping and the other was threatening to follow suit.  
  
Piper chuckled. "Go back to sleep, Rhys."  
  
He huffed indignantly, _wanting_ to go back to bed but finding himself watching Nora's face instead. Should he tell her anyway? Maybe? Or ... oh, her eye looked different. Rhys pointed to it. "Yerr eye."  
  
The general felt her face. Gone was the rudimentary bandage - the AutoDoc must have removed and disposed of it. The mangled mess that was her eye had been cleaned up. No more frayed flesh, no more busted eyeball, no more dried scabs or fresh blood. It was just an empty socket, the skin smooth around the orbital cavity.  
  
Nora stuck her finger in the chasm and Rhys resisted the urge to gag.  
  
"Oh. Well. That's ... disturbing," she laughed nervously. "I'm gonna go ahead and, erm ... cover it ... up ... "  
  
Piper tossed her an old shirt from the kindling pile. The general ripped a sliver off, gingerly wrapping it about her forehead and tying it off at the back of her skull, the excess cloth forming two 'tails' that made the ensemble look more like a headband than an old rag.  
  
"Better?" Nora asked.  
  
Piper nodded. "Much."  
  
Tenuously, the general blinked. And flinched. There was no movement behind the impromptu bandage/headband. "Oh _god_ , there's no eyelid ... Did it remove the eyelid?"

When her answer came in the form of shrugged shoulders and blanching glances, Nora turned her attention back to the AutoDoc. Like it had when Vaughn's procedure was finished, the machine had printed out a report on a small bit of receipt paper. Nora tore it off, scanning over the contents with her only good eye ... and the reaction ... Her fingers gripped the flimsy note with rising trepidation. Teal iris widening, pupils constricting to small pinpricks. Shock? Over what?  
  
Nora did not look up when she spoke again. "Rhys, you should go next."  
  
He fluttered his eyes in slow, fatigued, out-of-synch confusion. "Why?"  
  
"Well, there's the radiation ... " Still not looking at him. Focused. Mixed emotions and possible terror. "You took a huge dose. Didja see my RAD count? You've _gotta_ be in the same range. Sure you're not feeling sick?"  
  
Rhys shook his head. He was not the only one to take note of her tense state. Piper looked perturbed as well, squaring her shoulders and rising her chin. "Nora? You feelin' alright?"  
  
"Yea, yea." Not quite a confident response, but at least the general jerked her stare away from the paper for just a little bit. "It's either you or him, though."  
  
Piper hesitated. "Send Rhys," said the Diamond City reporter after a moment of silence. In response to his name, the Atlas company man cut loose a wide, long yawn. "My chest hurts, but it won't kill me. Rads will."  
  
"I feel fine," protested the man in the black suit.  
  
"Fine my foot," Nora told him sternly. Really, though, he _did_ feel dandy ... That one-eyed glare being tossed his way should have been enough to make him obey, but it was Nora's casual plucking of the Deathclaw hand and poking it his way that forced him to his feet. "You. Go."  
  
"F-fine! Justdon'tletit _touch_ me - !" Rhys stumbled past the Minutemen leader on legs that didn't quite realize they were on the move. Awkwardly fumbling for the now-unlocked machine door, he stopped to look down at himself. The front of his suit was clean ... ish ... But the back felt grungy as could be. He felt his skin crawl. "Do I ... do I have to take off my clothes, too ... ?" he queried, reluctance strong along his tongue.  
  
Piper snorted. "Seeing one pasty ass is enough for today."  
  
"Go to hell, Pipes," Nora bit back. She mustered a feeble little smile, stepping back to give Rhys space. "And naw. I'll just program it to administer RadAway. The most you'll have to do is roll up your sleeves. You shouldn't even be in there for that long, anyway."  
  
Uttering his best apprehensive groan, Rhys did as he was told and stepped into the Mark IX. It wasn't long before the mechanical appendages were upon him. He wrestled with the feel of claustrophobia, with the _sensation of inexplicable, certain doom as the whirring sawblades and white-hot laser slid closer and closer to him - unable to escape, strapped to that dopamine-injecting throne_ -

\- needles burrowed into his exposed flesh and Rhys realized he was hyperventilating. He swallowed hard, slowed his breathing. _Just a checkup_ , he told himself. _Not Jack's office. Helios went down. That's in the past. Calm down._  
  
Light shone above him. An arch of some kind ...  
  
HR: 128. BP: 110/80. RESP: 18. SPO2: 98%. RADS: 489.  
  
Nora cursed beyond the door. No wonder. That was ... that was _high_. Shouldn't he be feeling some of the effects? Puking? Passing out? _Dying_?  
  
The AutoDoc _whuffed_. Air encircled her. Fluid pumped into his veins. A peculiar sensation of relief ... Respiratory rate slowed further. Radiation levels dropped sharply.  
  
Grateful for the short time he'd have away from _everything_ , Rhys allowed his eyes to close and mind to wander - away from the troubling things. Away from the blood and gore and death and monsters ... Onto more pleasant things.  
  
Huge bowls of ice cream.  
  
Piles and piles of drakefruit.  
  
_Sasha_.  
  
______________  
  
DNA ANALYSIS STARTING.  
  
Nora rose a brow, the screen's glow shining brilliance onto her white features. "Looks like it's gonna give him a run-of-the-mill status check anyhow," she told herself with a bit of a shrug.  
  
Piper shifted in sync with one of Vaughn's snores. One hand grabbed for the pot with Deathclaw bits in it while the other wagged Nora over. "Got a sec, Blue?"  
  
Nora made a noise, turning before more text flitted across the display:  
  
DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE. WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED! PLEASE SPEAK WITH YOUR DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY.  
  
She decreased the space between them, pausing to retrieve the Deathclaw hand, and plopped down beside Vaughn's sleeping form. "What's up?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing."  
  
Brushing back her silvery-blond hair with a flippant look, the woman out of time's head bobbed slowly from side to side. "There's nothing to worry about with me ... ?"

She didn't sound like she believed her own words, and the fact that she crumpled the AutoDoc report and chucked it into the fire made Piper doubt her even more. "You're lying."  
  
"Of course I am."

"That was ... easy."  
  
"What was?"  
  
"Getting you to admit something's wrong."  
  
"I'm an open book, Pipes. You know that." Releasing carbon from between her whitened teeth, Nora pressed her hand once more against her belly. Her shirt felt stiff and dirty against the calloused fingers. "I got some _interesting news_."  
  
"What? You got cancer?" Piper blurted out in amusement. She immediately slapped a hand against her mouth when Nora drew back with a hiss. "Shit - Shaun was - I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "  
  
"It's okay, it's okay," drawled the pale woman slowly. Her pained expression was the source of the reporter's fretting anxiousness as she touched Nora's shoulder softly. The action drew no relief from either of them, even when the general forced a shadow of a smile onto her wan face. "Shit, Piper. A+ for tact right there."  
  
"I'm _really sorry_ \- "  
  
"And I know you are. Just ... calm down, that isn't it, okay?" Nora pinched the bridge of her nose. Piper's own dropped back to what she was doing, suddenly too ashamed to maintain eye contact. "It's something ... well, _impossible_ considering ... but I guess ... "  
  
A wonderfully arousing aroma of cooked meats was beginning to waft from the pot. Vaughn uncurled slightly. His nostrils flared and his tongue rolled over his lips. Behind them, the AutoDoc beeped. Rhys would be released soon. If she was going to say anything, she'd prefer to do it while they were still alone.  
  
"Blue?"  
  
"Soooo ... evidently, I'm pregnant."  
  
The reaction went about the way she expected it to. Piper dropped the utensil she'd been using to prod the steak into the pot, cursed, snatched it out, cursed _again_ at the hot steel ... all the while, her jaw maintained a plummeted stance ans she looked on the verge of shrieking - an act that was stifled to keep Vaughn from stirring.  
  
Piper resorted to a harsh whisper. "What - _how_? I mean is that _good_? Or _bad_?"  
  
Nora was uneasy. "I ... don't really know."  
  
"But _how_?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You _know_ what I mean? You were in a _tube_ for _two years_. No ... " Unable to form the words, Piper formed a circle with one hand and plunged a finger through it. "None of that. Right? ... Right? None of - oh my god, _Blue_ , you weren't - they didn't _rape_ you, did they?"  
  
The notion was terrifying enough to make Nora struggle with a response. "I really _doubt_ that," she told Piper in a low voice. "I cant - rule it out I guess but ... wouldn't I _wake up_ for that?"  
  
"They kept your doped up, didn't they?"  
  
"Yeah. On good drugs." A rock formed in her throat. Giving birth to Shaun was supposed to be one of the most painful experiences in her life, what with all the tearing ... But that epidural had been _so strong_ ... If she could be high out of her mind and undergo labor without batting her eye, who was to say she couldn't be forced into ... into ...  
  
The very thought turned her blood to ice.  
  
"No ... " Nora smashed shut her eye, tried to remember ... That hole in her stomach. The very large needle that formed it. It's location, lined up directly with her womb ... "No ... I don't think - maybe it happened some other way."  
  
Piper's index finger stretched, indicated the scar in question, wordless vocals contorting her maw into all sorts of shapes and sizes. Half of Nora's mouth twisted: not a smile or frown, but somewhere in between with canines exposed - affirmation of the confused variety.  
  
"But - "  
  
Vaughn groaned, eyes fluttering. "We'll talk about this later," Nora told her, drawing a digit to her lips to silence the subject and Piper's restless inquiries.  
  
The latter gave a disgruntled, relentless little sigh. She fanned the intoxicating fumes from the smoldering pot of cooking meat to Vaughn's face. The result was nigh instantaneous. His eyes popped open, teeth gnashing together as though he expected a slab of juicy goodness to be passed into his gullet upon awakening.  
  
"What's that ... what's that _smell_?" He squinted, rubbing his eyes. The way he furiously fluttered them while trying to gain focus made Nora wonder if he'd worn glasses once. "Where am I? Where are _we_?"  
  
Vaughn propped up on his elbows, rolling his neck from side to side. His neck popped audibly in place. He paused his limbering to take a good gander at his surroundings while in perpetual morning-after bliss.

That didn't last long.

His whirlwind of frantic activity came in like a wrecking ball. Chocolate eyes widening, practically _jutting_ from his skull, with lips stretched back in a grimace of speed-driven despair, Vaughn was on his boots and _scampering_ about the room. He checked in every corner, behind every alcove, under every pile of rubble for ... _something_.  
  
It slowly became evident by his rambling that Vaughn was aware his pacified environment was nothing like the one he'd last been coherent of. "Where are the crabs? The queen?! C-Cait?! Where's the body - and - and - " Puny hands found his chest. They flung his jacket across the room carelessly before attacking his grimy shirt, rolling it above his nipple line to reveal what would have been a rather nasty-looking injury but was instead a nicely toned sets of muscles (much to Piper's approval, Nora noticed with a snort). "Where's the stabby wound? Where's - OH MY GOD, WHERE'S RHYS!?"  
  
"Right here, buddy." The AutoDoc _woosh_ ed open. Out stepped the Man in Black (and Glowing Orange Buttons). Chrome hand balled into a fist before his mouth, he coughed through the healing mist that heralded his entrance. "I'm okay. We're all okay. Calm down, bro."  
  
"Bro1" Vaughn vaulted into his friend's open arms. Their heads only became level with one another when Rhys scooped him up off the ground with about three feet between Vaughn's heels and the floor.  
  
"It's all good, bro!"  
  
"They're so _adorable_ ," Piper fawned, stabbing at the Deathclaw steak. It hissed and steamed.  
  
"I _know_ ," Nora agreed. "To be honest, if I didn't know String Bean had a girlfriend, I would've thought they were gay for each other."  
  
________________  
  
Lilith was ... aware, at first, of beeping and blipping and pulsating noises. No footsteps. But breathing - uneven, unsteady, _rapid_ and _fearful_ and most definitely not her own ... though she was certain that they ran the same pace as her's.  
  
When she managed to open her eyes - a feat in itself, considering the feeling of lead that pressed onto them - the Siren could see blinking lights and racing heart monitors. Darkness pocketmarked by bleaching light that deprived illumination from the locale by focusing on sparse objects. A table - long and white. A chair - large, comfortable, and golden-hued with its back facing her. A white board - marred by different-colored drawings and mathematical equations that made no sense.  
  
"Where ... ," she'd started to say. Her voice was hoarse, her throat fabricated from parched cotton. Clicking her tongue against her hard palate, Lilith flinched at the popping sound it made.  
  
Her eyes were burning. Her muscles ached. Every fiber of her being felt _beyond_ tired. Something itched her chest and Lilith made to scratch it ... or would have. If her wrists hadn't been strapped down. The Siren hissed and writhed. Ankles, too, were fastened by soft restraints. And her waist ... which felt oddly ... intimate?  
  
Breath hitching in her larynx, Lilith jerked her head on enough of an angle to see herself below the neck. Her chest was bare. _Most of her_ was. They left none to the imagination ... whoever _they_ were. The padding keeping her tied down rubbed against bare skin. Adhesive electrodes dotted her thoracic cage. Gritting her teeth, Lilith realized she was _also_ hooked to a heart monitor: the rising pitch of its cry shrilled in her left ear.  
  
"What the **_fuck_**?"  
  
She thrashed wildly but the action did nothing but burn the bindings against her exposed skin. Teeth chomped down, ire raising ... Her tattoos glowed brilliantly: curling white ghosts among the shadows, the EKG at her side going from frantic beeping to high, steady whine -

\- and a jolt of electricity that snapped stars across her blackening vision wrenched her body in a back-breaking arch. A pained groan slid from her jowels. Those shimmering tribal marks flickered to death, returning to their original pale blue state. Lilith had no choice but to force herself into a relaxed position, quell her rapid breathing, slow her bounding heartbeat.  
  
Where was she?  
  
"Now now, we can't be havin' you do that, can we, kitten?"  
  
She knew the voice, _hated_ the user. Bright red violence flashed across her eyes. The urge to murder and maim was so strong she could _taste_ it.  
  
"I don't want you lighting this place on fire. I mean, _I'm all_ for a barbecue - but you'd be killing all my tech! And all this hard work - that would suck a shit ton, Lilith."  
  
Molars and incisors clashed, tightened. "Jack," she hissed through clenched teeth. Lilith looked everywhere - as far as her heavy head could manage - but she couldn't pinpoint him. He sounded so close. _Everywhere_ , but ...  
  
The chair.  
  
"Righto, kiddo! Guess you bandits got some brains after all, huh?" Forever goading, always _taunting_ and cruel ... "So yeah. No fricassee. That'd be bad. For you, really. You don't want your friends getting roasted alive, would you?"  
  
_Friends?_  
  
Those heart monitors ... that distant breathing ... Why didn't she pay attention to them before? Lilith's orbs, all black sclera and reddish-orange irises, darted about the room. There were other tables ... other people ... Others _like her_ , and not in the Pandoran sense.  
  
Women: clad in nothing but their underwear. Every single one of them was limber, lean - built to run, to fight, to _hide_ ... to not get in situations like _this_. But so had Lilith. Yet here she was ... And there were tattoos not unlike her own. Whirling baby blues splintered across different parts of their flesh. A calling card. A _birth_ right.  
  
"I don't know them," Lilith grumbled. It was only partially true ...  
  
Jack's voice sounded like it was in her ear, crooning with the same sharpness that once sent shivers down her spine long ago. "But _don't_ you"?"

Two were unrecognizable. One, a pale spectre undistinguishable from a cloud with beautiful blond curls that lapped across her shoulders and well below the small of her back. The other, with short, backswept aquamarine hair that sharply contrasted her darker-toned skin. Lilith had never seen them a day in her life, though their vision struck some ancient familiarity inisde her that she fought hard to silence.  
  
_I don't know them. I don't._  
  
But the other ...  
  
Maya wasn't hard to distinguish with her electric blue, unnaturally straight hair. But ... she was breathing. And writhing, however weakly, in her sleep. And her eyes were ... _intact_.  
  
"That's not Maya," Lilith sputtered. The volume of her cries escalated into a roar. Heat seared her back, her throat, and the EKG beeped threateningly. "Not ... She's _dead_. What have you **done** to her?!"  
  
Something shifted in her peripheral vision. A phantom of sorts: all light blue and flickering in and out of focus. Just as soon as Lilith realized it was there, it was gone. "That's the wonder of Hyperion technology, you little _fire rat_. Anywhere, really, for the right price. But we got it rollin' to almost a perfect _science_. Cloning. Isn't it _awesome_? That one that got her eyes gouged out looked so damn accurate, right? Right down to the perfect waist and perky tits. Just not an actual Siren, 'kay?"  
  
Lilith was _seething_. She should have recognized ... should have _known_ the second Maya unveiled her wings when they left the Glowing Sea. They were electric sapphire back then, but on Pandora ... when she'd first embraced her Blight Phoenix ability ... they'd been formed from fire that liquefied into dripping acid at their feathery tips ...  
  
"Why is she here?"  
  
"Ahhh, her luck ran out. Caught her crossing into the Earth atmosphere with one of _Rhys'_ pals." The very name made Lilith hiss. Jack found it amusing, for his laugh was loud and boisterous. "Yyyyeaaah, I hate the kiddo too. But hey. You gotta make do with what youve got."  
  
Before the flaming Siren could venture into the realm of questioning that statement, her wandering oculars caught sight of something else. _Somebody_ else. One that _also_ should not have been among them. She recognized that partially shaved black haircut anywhere. That pristine face, so serene in its silent rest ... Unlike the others, _this_ Siren was no breathing. But she looked so perfectly preserved that Lilith would have thought she was alive ... if not for the silenced EKG machine reading a perfect flatline.  
  
Still, she should have _rotted_ by now.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
Incredible, ruthless energy penetrated every sinew of every muscle. It wrenched her backwards, forced her neck to spin left and right as though through some uncontrollable seizure. Agonizing contractions made her scream, howl, _tear up_ \- and Lilith _never_ teared up.  
  
There it was again - that faint blue haunting of a man, flickering in and out of focus but so _real_ and _visible_ this time around. A man that should have been dead twice over, but impossibly loomed above her now. Transparent hands planted firmly into the cot, one appendage on either side of her spinning skull. His upper lip snarled upwards, the corners of his mouth twisting south. Eyes so wide that the lids vanished, Jack's face was practically against her own. She could have felt his breath - _should_ have - but as he growled Lilith felt and smelled nothing.  
  
It shouldn't have surprised her, given his apparent holographic nature ...  
  
"Don't _look_ at her!" A.I. Jack bellowed. Lilith dared to meet his gaze, and he dared to ran his hand across her face. Faux phalanges vanished beyond her cheeks. The Hyperion CEO scowled, his attempted slap thwarted by his own corporal form. Even wrapping his large fingers around her neck garnered not even the slightest bit of satisfaction. "Don't - _ever_ \- **_mention_** _her_!"  
  
"Or what?" Lilith retorted as the heart monitor's electrodes gradually stopped their relentless assault. "You're gonna kill me? With what body?"  
  
Their noses touched - metaphorically. Jack's leer was unbroken, that festering scowl shifting into a macabre smile. "You really wanna test that, _bandit_?"  
  
He pressed a surreal hand against Lilith's EKG. It's rhythmic bleat became a screech. No amount of bracing could prepare her abused body for the volatile surge that coursed through her veins next. She couldn't see, could hardly _breath_ -

It felt as though decades had passed by the time he was through sending her nervous system into spasms. Lilith's head smashed against the cot - what was meant to be cushioned and pliable for patients but felt similar to concrete for her. Spittle jettisoned from her mouth, brought back down by gravity to land on her face. She gasped air through a pinhole. Unrelenting lungs just _couldn't_ seem to fill with the air they so desperately craved.  
  
"Son ... of a ... _bitch_ ... " A short while ago her voice would have been menacing. Now it was tiny and fragile. "Why ... are you ... You an' ... Atlas ... are ... In this ... together ... "  
  
Handsome Jack didn't respond. Not verbally, anyway. His pleased expression was enough to answer her question. He pulled away, slowly slipping a thumb and knuckle against her chin as though to caress it.  
  
"Such a _smart_ idiot you are," he purred.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Now now, don't make me _declaw_ you."  
  
Lilith watched the other Sirens. They were all catatonic ... blissful. Save for Angel ... The Firehawk dared not look at her, but the black-haired woman had not been conscious let alone _breathing_. She was a corpse with fair skin. How was that possible? And Maya ... Granted, her eyes were closed in perpetual sleep, but her lips were tight, teeth bared in a horrid grimace. Nightmares? Or ...  
  
A flicker of violet caught her attention and Lilith glanced at the foot of Maya's cot. There, pulsating its majestic wonderment, was an unmistakable stone unlike any other.  
  
A Vault Key.  
  
Glistening and glowing th way it was could only mean one thing. It was charged ... by Maya, perhaps, and a secondary glimpse at her former partner-in-crime confirmed those suspicions. Her tribal markings gleamed like dying street lamps: a far cry from their previously glorious state. That heart monitor was raging and Lilith was positive her vitals shouldn't be that _erratic_.  
  
Maya's mouth twitched, teeth parting in a silent cry or call. Minuscule beads of sweat ran down the length of her face, her chest, her arms ... and Lilith noticed for the first time how _drenched_ the Corrosive Siren's cot appeared to be.  
  
Further investigation revealed at least one other Vault Key set before the aquamarine-haired Siren's bed. Unlike Maya's, this one was cold, unlit, and generally insignificant. It was also broken into fragments.  
  
The Firehawk hissed. A million questions boiled in her brain but only one managed to manifest through her frail, tired vocal chords. "Why?"  
  
Handsome Jack wasn't a secret-keeper. Though he was conniving, he also had a reputation to spill out his plans before they were actually fulfilled, fully confident that everything would go his way in the end. "A very specific Vault." The A.I. pulled away fully now. With a broad sweep of his holographic arm, he'd gone on to include the entire room in his impending monologue. "I need all the Sirens for it because there's so many gates inside the damn thing. Multiple Sirens, multiple Vault gates, so many _guardians_. Get 'em all together, activate _this_ little artifact - "  
  
The _little_ artifact in question was far from that in accordance to scale. Seriously, how could she not have _seen_ it. The thing ... was it a statue or a living thing encased in stone? ... easily stood to be about eight feet tall. Insect-like in appearance with an abdomen that split and jutted forth in a skirt-like fashion, the creature was ... intimidating, at best. All of its lankly limbs were encased in an organic type of armor. Fingers were impossibly long, tipped with lethal-looking black claws. Frayed bits of colorful, rainbow-hued, crystallized 'wings' ridged the forearms and crested the back of its misshapen skull, so hard and sharp that one might slice open a finger if they were to touch them without gloves. The face was indistinguishable, helmeted, and the neck bent at almost a ninety-degree angle to support it.  
  
It wasn't the first time Lilith had seen something like this. A creature of the very same genus had stepped in when she was about to have Athena gunned down by firing squad. She held her breath, the realization coming on strong and consuming.  
  
An Eridian.  
  
_"War is coming."  
  
_ Unlike the previous incarnation, this creature did not wield an eridium-imbued spiked weapon. Clasped between its spindly fingers instead was ... an instrument? Designed like a flute, though it had no holes to press one's digits against. So more like a clarinet? But shorter. Intricate whorls of different shades exploded art upon its design. The Eridian held the object to its face ... or would have, if the helmet hadn't been in the way (come to think of it, the instrument lacked a mouthpiece).  
  
There were five buttons on the 'flute' to replace the tuning holes, all of which were meticulously carved with different designs. And set upon the center of each was the familiar upside-down V symbol Lilith - and all of Pandora - had come to associate with Vaults and their hidden treasures.  
  
" - to summon the big boy, and _hoo boy_ are things going to get _intense_. The big problem is finding those Vault Keys. I still need four of 'em. Records say they're supposed to be here on Earth, but _man_ this planet is ... well, it's pretty big. Would be so much easier to just _blow it up_ and collect the keys from the scrap. But that's a lot of limbs and debris to pick through. Like finding a needle in a haystack." Handsome Jack drew in a sharp breath. Lilith wondered at his desire to breath though he lacked the windpipes necessary to create oxygen exchange ... lacked the _need_ for it entirely. "And one more Siren."  
  
One more? Lilith blinked, her wandering, blurry gaze whirling with confusion. "One more?" she breathed slowly, every word striking hot lashes against her chest. "You've got ... five here. There ... can only be five at ... any given time. Or the universe explodes. Everybody ... knows that."  
  
He whirled on her, clicking his tongue against his lips. " _Tsk tsk_! You of all people should know better, Firehawk! Five _normal_ , **elemental** Sirens. And a sixth. A special one."  
  
A special one?  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_ Lilith bit her lip. She thought back to Sanctuary Hills ... to the battle with the pregnant woman bursting with Siren prowess. "You ... wanted her dead. Wanted me ... to kill her. Why, if you needed her?"  
  
"Oh, not _her_. Not the pain-in-the-ass baby, either. Those two will be dealt with. That good ol' lap dog Lanius is on the case. A little show of power and _anybody_ will bow down to ya, hmm?" He laughed mirthlessly, stopped himself short, and rubbed at his nose. "Naw, naw. I don't need her. Fuck that chick and her kid. It's the _other_ one."  
  
"Other ... ?"  
  
He made no sense. What other one? Lilith hadn't _picked up_ on any other one. Maybe it wasn't on this planet? Maybe it wasn't ...  
  
Her eyes settled on Angel. "You know a Siren is only so good as long as it's **_alive_** , right?"  
  
She knew he was going to punish her for that statement, so why make it? But there was a small victory in the writhing anger distorting his handsomely masked face even as he slammed his fist into the EKG machine and set it charging her with electricity. Lilith guffawed triumph and Jack ... after seeing this giddy reaction ... Jack wasn't going to have any of it. He cut off the high voltage, snapped his fingers ...  
  
"Hey, code monkey!"  
  
The golden chair whirled to face them. Perched upon it was ... somebody. She couldn't see who - it was too dark. But she could make out longer-than-natural legs leisurely crossing, lengthy limbs relaxing boredly on the arm rests, and a single, glowing yellow eye piercing through the black.  
  
"You rang?" warbled the man in the dark. Chills ran the length of her spine.  
  
" _You_!"  
  
"Do me a favor, kiddo. Show this little bitch what we're gonna do to her bandit buddies. That'll snap some _perspective_ into her."  
  
" _You sonnuva bitch_! I knew you couldn't be trusted! I'll fucking _incinerate you_!"  
  
Golden-Eye stood, sweeping in at an easy six feet. Spider-like limbs allowed him quick passage across the room, through the dark, into the light ... That familiar soft face with swept-back brown hair and dual-colored eyes leaned over her. His grin was broad, menacing, _remorseless_ ... as cold as his gaze, narrowed in Lilith's direction.  
  
His chrome hand produced a remote of some kind from his suit-jacket pocket. It picked one button out of several. A circle opened up in the floor beyond him. Rising to their level and illuminated by its own observation lantern was a tube that was several feet wide and ten feet tall.  
  
And chained inside was a weary, beaten Mordecai.  
  
Lilith froze as their eyes met. Multitudes of emotions, none of them fitting for the situation they were in save for one: anguish. She called his name, voice straining, chest _heaving_ , and she thought she heard him cry for her though his words were lost to battle-fatigue and dehydration.  
  
Offending silver digits pressed a series of commands into the control. A mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, tipped with a syringe holding viscous green fluid. The Firehawk fought her restraints, yowled murderous threats ... all of which went unheard. His callous smile was unyielding, his frigid stare unbroken.  
  
"So, we've been working on a thing," the man in the black suit told her. How odd was his voice. How _infuriating_. It lacked even the basest of emotions. "There was a corporation on Earth called West Tek. Once upon a time, they developed a biological serum meant to boost immunity in humans, making them invulnerable to biological or chemical attacks from the enemy. There were ... pretty profound and _nasty_ side effects .So the U.S. Army took over, renamed the genetically-altering serum the Forced Evolutionary Virus, and used it to enhance their soldiers. You can imagine about how well that went.  
  
"We took its unstable nature and made it ... well, not _stable_ , but more potent? Added a little flavor to it. Siren DNA definitely makes things more, ah, _lively_. We haven't actually field-tested it yet. Until today. Your friend is really lucky! He gets to be the first subject to really _benefit_ from our Modified Evolutionary Virus! We can try it on the other two later but I'm _really_ curious to see how this is going to turn out!"  
  
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"  
  
"All words with no actions to back them up, darling," thrummed the man with the glowing golden eye. "So whaddya say? Ready for a show?" He sighed regretfully. "I should have brought some popcorn for this."  
  
A.I. Jack was practically bouncing on his heels. " _Do_ it, cupcake!"  
  
All it took was one press of the button.  
  
Just one press to ignite the most horrendous, agony-driven screams Lilith ever heard Mordecai shriek.  
  
____________  
  
Piper relinquished herself from the position of steak-cooker to take her rightful spot in the Mark IX AutoDoc. Rhys immediately replaced her and Nora hummed amusement at his outward exuberance when it came to cooking. He gave the fleshy lump all the attentive adoration one might fixate upon a huge prime rib, carefully turning it over every few minutes until the blood boiled down and the raw redness became a luscious golden-brown.  
  
"If only there was a full kitchen here," Nora bemoaned, "and we were supplied with other things. Vegetables and potatoes, you know? I'd go to town making side dishes."  
  
Vaughn groaned. For such a little man, his stomach was so _loud_.  
  
While Piper was getting the separated cartilage along her sternum fixed, they went to work preparing for the long venture ahead. When Rhys set aside the steak to cool, Nora went to boiling water retrieved from the very same sink he'd used to wash up in earlier. "The heat will remove bacteria, but not the radiation," she told them. "Luckily for us, the RAD level's pretty unremarkable. It'll be fine to drink."  
  
Vaughn managed to procure some canteens left lying about the hospital courtesy of careless raiders along with some tin canisters that weren't quite rusty but definitely not completely clean. He'd tried valiantly to clean them. In the end their hygenic state was ... questionable, at best. But it was better than nothing.  
  
The steak was chilled by the time Piper was released from the AutoDoc. She joined them in breaking the food down in smaller portions, dividing them into an equal amount to be stored into their two rucksacks. There was no guarantee they'd be running into food along the way to the Castle (and Piper openly grieved how they should have scavenged some mirelurk meat earlier), so they were forced to ration what they had in case no new game - or living fruit/vegetable-bearing plants - came their way. It was the same with the water (once it cooled to room temperature). Split into two canteens, the would have to share and use it sparingly.  
  
They feasted on what was left over. Nobody knew how ravenous their appetites were, so constant was the movement and drama. Even Rhys, who was initially reluctant to bite into his bit of Deathclaw until substantial teasing and prodding forced his hand, absolutely _ripped_ through what awaited him.  
  
With their meal complete, the group gathered what could be gathered - spare clothes, the odd tool here and there, bits of wiring and old tech (for Nora), anything that could be used as kindling - and sat about to recollect their strength for the journey ahead.  
  
For the first few hours they gathered around the dwindling campfire telling stories, exchanging jokes, and generally catching up on what was going on. Rhys and Vaughn happily filled them in about what it was like living on a space station (to which Nora had gotten glassy-eyed and voiced bewilderment) and how lethal ... and sometimes, _safe_ \- the planet of Pandora was in comparison. Piper went into extravagant detail about her life as a reporter, exploring old dangers she'd come to face with all the wel-deserving bravado she could muster. And Nora, prompted mostly by Piper, explained to them the way life was before the bombs fell.  
  
All the while, Buttboy kept its routinely patrol up and down the hallway. "PROTECT AND SERVE." Up and down. "PROTECT AND SERVE."  
  
When the 'itis' finally started to kick in, dusk was fast approaching. They slept in shifts with the intention to leave at first dawn. Nora volunteered to stay awake first. Piper curled up beside the campfire and it wasn't long before she was seesawing away. Rhys crawled his way to the AutoDoc, where he leaned against the wall with arms crossed and dozed into a seriously fitful slumber.  
  
It took Vaughn a little while longer to actually crash. He'd sat idly for maybe an hour watching the fire's embers slowly die. Stoking the last burning blight, the bandit lord casually glimpsed Nora's way from time to time. He was entertained and intrigued by her craft. The Deathclaw hand, it seemed, could be of good use, as she was fastening the claws into something that could easily fit around somebody's wrist.  
  
As she ran a gloved finger along one of the claws to check its stability, Vaughn finally found the courage to speak. "Do you make stuff like that often?"  
  
Nora chuckled. "What, deathclaw gauntlets? Nnnnnnnooo. I don't like tangling with them as much as you'd might think. Too high of a chance to walk away with missing limbs."  
  
"No no, I mean ... making trinkets. Supplies and weapons." Buzzkill rested at Nora's feet. Vaughn's eyes groomed over the hilt. Not long ago, the Minutemen general got around to replacing the battery. It had sparked magnificently to life when she gave it a test run earlier. "You do that a lot?"  
  
"I'm kind of like your neighborhood blacksmith." She paused to consider her statement, thoughtfully touching her chin. "And ... armorer. And gun nut. And all-around mad scientist."  
  
"Where did you learn to do all that stuff?"  
  
"Out of necessity, really. Or habit. Pops was a very 'waste not, want not' type of guy, so I got into the routine of never throwing anything away that might be useful later. And my husband ... " Nora halted, blanching at her own words. She drew in a shaky breath. " _Nate_ was in the army so ... I learned a couple of tricks from him. He was always convinced we might need survival skills like that one day. Preached about how the apocalypse was coming if mankind kept doing what it was doing."  
  
"Looks like he wasn't far from the truth," Vaughn found himself whispering.  
  
He was beginning to regret saying that until Nora responded with a distant-sounding, "Yea ... "  
  
"But it's pretty awesome!" he quickly bounced back, adding color to his vocals. "We heard a lot of stories about your creations. How you fixed a ship run by robots. How you got the first relay set up to infiltrate the Institute ... !"  
  
"That one wasn't entirely _me_ , though," laughed the platinum-blond, carefully binding down a leather strap to the gauntlet's backside. "Sturges helped me out a ton. He was the Minutemen mechanic, y'know."  
  
"But the two of you managed to do it from _scrap metal_ and _junk piles_!"  
  
Across the room, Rhys whimpered in his sleep. He jumped rudimentarily, displacing himself so much that he fell on his side with a thwarted grunt. Vaughn started towards him, pausing when his cybernetic flashed open - only for a second - blinked, and shut again. A few short seconds later and he was drooling again.  
  
The two of them sat in shared silence until they were certain he'd entered dreamland. "Does he do that a lot?" Nora finally asked.  
  
"The nightmares?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"No, I ... I think it's a recent development, though I haven't really been around him while he's slept. Sasha'd be the one to ask about that." The former accountant rubbed his eye. "I mean, there've been ... moments where he'd kinda freak out. Jump at strange noises. Jerk back if you get anywhere _close_ to his neck. He'll kinda drift off from time to time. Stare at a wall, snap out of it and start screaming. That kind of thing. This one time before we fought the Traveler, he went exploring in the old ruined Helios. He went MIA for about a day. Cassius and I found him huddled and _trembling_ in a corner. Said he saw ghosts." He wondered if he was rambling too much and hesitated to go on any further.  
  
Nora hummed a low, sad noise. "Sounds a bit like PTSD."  
  
No argument there. "I wish there was a way to snap him out of it sometimes. Cure it. I dunno."  
  
"There's no way to reverse that process, man. It just takes time. A lot of time. He hasn't been, like, exceptionally violent or anything?"  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Like ... uh ... Nate, whenever he got back from the war, used to have these night terrors. One got so bad that I had to wake him up. He though I was a Chinese officer and basically threw me across the room." At Vaughn's hissing sympathy, Nora chuckled. "I should have expected it. It wasn't his fault, but it also wasn't the first - or last - time it happened. Folks with PTSD can get really _testy_ if you try to break them from their spell."  
  
"He's not like _that_ ," defended the bandit king. "Couldn't hurt a fly unless he's forced to." Was he any different? Frowning upon violence, using laser pointers to freak out assailants and resorting to actual gunplay when all other options had been exhausted? "Mostly it's just blind terror. He's no war vet. Never killed anybody _. Not intentionally_. I think ... I think it's gotten him so freaked out that Helios ... " Vaughn waved a hand to the sky, as if expecting the space station to be hovering overhead. "A lot of people died trying to get off Helios when it went down. A lot more got trapped in it. Perished in the wreck. He, uhm ... I think he holds himself responsible for it."  
  
He couldn't really get a reading off of Nora's marred features, but the way her head lowered and her only functioning eye narrowed made him think that her mind dwelled to some other place. "Yeah, that's ... that's probably not going to go away any time soon. The most you can do is just be there for him. It'll be a rough transitional period."  
  
Vaughn shifted from one knee to another. He vouched for repositioning them under his butt and became terrifyingly aware of how one of them had fallen asleep. Pins and needles! Pins and needles!  
  
"Can I - chh _shhhh_ \- ask you a question," he managed in a blanched groan.  
  
"How can you avoid moving around without busting your knee?" teased the general.  
  
"No - ahh - about ... About the Institute? Before the Brotherhood guys took it over. And I know how far out in left field this is but ... does it bother you? I mean, _why_?"  
  
"Why what?" Nora queried. Their eyes met and Vaughn began to sweat. The dangerous edge to her voice and the slight gleam in her eye made him want to shut up _shut up **shut up**_.  
  
But he just couldn't stop himself. "Why did you ... ? They said you killed your own son. Helped destroy the scientists that worked there. Were they all that _bad_?"  
  
Nora's grip on the gauntlet tightened so hard that Vaughn feared she might snap it in two. Red blossomed across white cheeks. Vaughn hoped they would disappear, but there they remained prominently etched onto her features: a testament of rage or hate or _something_ that he was certain now he wanted no part of.  
  
He expected an outlash. A verbal assault. A physical _beating_. Instead her eye closed, her lips parted ... She inhaled, held it there, and drew its release out so long that it may have been a minute before she breathed in again.  
  
"Who told you that?" she finally managed to blurt out. The irritated twinge remained present, but it felt subdued.  
  
Vaughn found he was shaking. He hadn't been so struck down by fear like that since he'd first arrived on Pandora as a sniveling, scared-of-his-own-shadow Hyperion. Nora was ... _nice_. Had been since the moment they bumped into her. And she was accommodating to they who were complete strangers to her, welcoming them into the fold with open arms like most of the good guys they'd met already. She was aloof, good-humored, nerdy, and in a lot of ways she reminded him of Rhys.  
  
But there was an equally strong undertone of something darker. A roughened image, brutish lethality engraved by the passing of one life-altering trial after another and constant confrontations with death ... An idealization that she would not hesitate to murder if she was placed in danger. Like with the mirelurks and their queen. It had saved their lives, but the sheer ruthlessness of her actions ... The similarities between Nora and Rhys were long and profound, but so too were the differences.  
  
"Everybody thinks so," he admitted to her, not proud of his quivering speech. "Desdemona of the Railroad told us first, though."  
  
Nora grabbed the bridge of her nose. "Of course it would be Dez," she'd murmured, more to herself than anybody else. "Gotta make a _shining example_ of the Railroad's most prestigious Heavy."  
  
Vaughn felt a gaze upon him. A familiar yellow glow came to him from the corners of his eyes and the accountant realized, through the din, that Rhys had quietly awoken and was watching through clouded visuals.  
  
"So ... ," started the bandit lord tentatively, "did you ... ?"  
  
"I wouldn't believe everything Dez says," Nora responded, avoiding a direct answer. Her focus returned to the gauntlet though Vaughn noticed her fingers were trembling. "She's ... Look, I love the Railroad. I love its cause and its members. But Dez will turn absolutely anything and everything into propaganda. What better rallying call than the story of a member so _dedicated to the cause_ that she was willing to murder her only child to maintain it?"  
  
She motioned to Vaughn's hand, beckoned for him to bring it her way. He did so without protest/ "What are you - ?"  
  
"I take it you're about as comfortable using a gun as I am?" Nora mused in monotone. She clasped the gauntlet about his nimble wrist. It was surprisingly light, given the size of the claws.  
  
"I am. Don't like killing in general but .. are you _giving_ me this?"  
  
"Yerp."  
  
Vaughn gave it a little swipe. Those horrendous, long claws whizzed through the air like razors. The way it connected to his arm, the way he directly controlled the bend and twist and felt the trajectory effects immediately was ... oddly satisfying. "Thanks?"  
  
"No problem," she shrugged.  
  
Sudden surprise creased Vaughn's forehead. "Wait, you don't like guns?"  
  
"Frankly I think they're terrifying," Nora admitted shamelessly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a crack shot. But they do the job so suddenly and without warning that it's unfair. You could be just walking along, picking some mutfruit and then, _BAM_ , nothing," They flinched simultaneously. "At least with melee weapons, they can see you coming and have a fighting chance to _survive_. It's not really beneficial in a raider attack or something, but, I dunno, there's some kind of honor in it."  
  
"I could get used to it," Vaughn said. He tediously thumbed a sickle claw and drew back when its unexpected sharpness cut through the skin.  
  
"Careful. Those things aren't a joke."  
  
"Yeah, I can see that. And, um, I'm sorry, okay? It's been kind of bugging me. Are we ... are we cool?"  
  
"As a cucumber." Nora mustered a smirk then.  
  
Nora walked to the surgery room doorframe and leaned there, arms crossing her chest. Vaughn visibly relaxed. He turned to lay at Piper's feet and his gaze locked with Rhys'. They watched each other for a bit, all raised brows and curiosity, until Nora's voice carried over to the both of them.  
  
"For what it's worth, no, I didn't kill ... Shaun." A lonely teal orb fell upon them both, planting an 'ahaaa, I found you out' glance in Rhys' direction. His head jerked backwards, caught in the act. "Dez wanted me to free the self-aware Synths from the Institute. I was planning on making it a peaceful demonstration - that they could leave without inciting violence, thereby proving they were rational, _human_. But backstage, Desdemona was supplying them guns, whispering ... other ideas to them. They shot up the place on the way out. Just like that. Men, women, children who were of no threat, gone. Everything Shaun was doing, demolished."  
  
She turned away, watching Buttboy shamble his way back for round 238 of his patrol. Pale blond, almost silver, hair fell across her dark gray headband.  
  
"I didn't kill Shaun," she whispered. "He committed suicide."  
  
______________  
  
  
When deep night finally fell across the land, Piper was up to take the lead. Nora stretched along the far wall, her back against the floor's molding, and winced shut the only eye she had left. Like Rhys before her, Nora was restless. She awoke from time to time with terror struck across her face. True sleep was an elusive creature. No matter how much she tried to grasp it, Lala Land only approached her for a few minutes at a time. Every time somebody moved, she woke up. Whenever Buttboy came stumbling back, she stirred. It was hopeless.  
  
Piper switched out with Vaughn eventually. Then Rhys, the darkening rings around his eyes a testament to his abusive relationship with actual rest. To his credit, the money man maintained watch without once drifting off. But from his expression, Nora knew that he wanted to several times.  
  
Nora was on her thirtieth exploit with the scandalous concept of rest when she heard a door close further down the hallway. Her eye popped open. She knew for a fact that everybody was in here ... and Protectrons, though they could climb stairs, were not necessarily good at opening doors ... Rhys heard it too, though from the way he slapped his ears it was clear he thought he'd just imagined it.  
  
Buttbow must have seen whoever, or _whatever_ (she couldn't put it past a feral ghoul to climb those stairs) was there. "HALT, INTRUDER. IDENTIFY YOURSELF."  
  
Rhys scrambled to Vaughn and Nora. Both of the sleeping teammates were shaken awake. The accountant immediately yelped and was instantly silenced by his bro's index fingers. Piper was a little more used to this kind of scenario. She looked around blearily, sighed, and collected her thoughts and items. Nora took the moment to don her armor and jacket, grasp Buzzkill by the hilt, and take point by the doorway.  
  
"IDENTIFY YOURSELF."  
  
Was that a voice? Nora leaned in, picking up on the tracest amount of dialogue. Whoever it was talked quietly. Were they very small or were they really that far away?  
  
"Don't shoot, we're friendlies!"  
  
"HOSTILES DETECTED. ENGAGING LETHAL FORCE."  
  
"Find cover!"  
  
The hall flashed with red light. It was a one-sided assault. Not once did the enemy return fire. Were they not armed?  
  
There was a scream and Nora cursed, sprinting down the hall with Piper on her heels. "Damn it, Buttboy!"  
  
"Raiders?" called the reporter behind her.  
  
"Not fighting back!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Dunno!"  
  
The Protectron's back was getting closer and closer, the flashing amber light atop its head combatting the red lasers blitzing from its weaponized appendages. Beyond it, Nora could see nobody. No blood. No bodies. At least Buttboy hadn't killed anybody yet.  
  
_Yet_.  
  
"Who's there?" Nora cupped a hand to her mouth and hollered. "We're not gonna hurt you! Not raiders!"  
  
An aged hand extended from the last rom on the right. It retracted immediately when buttboy fired up again. "Caravan here! Stop your robot!"  
  
Buttboy lurched onward. He'd bypass the threshold soon and be upon the traders. Blinding by the strobing lights, Nora was grateful when Vaughn came running with Rhys in tow, the LED of his palm flipped on and the stun baton belching wild bursts of hot electricity. She flagged the CEO over for proper illumination, wrenched open the control panel on the Protectron's back, and wrenched free the fusion core just as it began to turn and face her.  
  
"HOSTILES DETECTED, L-L-LETHAL FO-FO-RRRRCCCC ... "  
  
Then it went limp, arms dangling, back drooping so that it faced downwards.  
  
"Fucking RobCo," Nora grumbled.  
  
Rhys raised a brow. "Didn't you work for them?"  
  
"I never said we made the _best_ robots. Too many damn bugs sometimes."  
  
The voice from before - an older female, by the sound of it - yelled to them. "Safe to come out without getting riddled by lasers?"  
  
"Yep. C'mon out!"  
  
Nora was expecting just about anybody. The Commonwealth was huge, littered with dozens of strange faces ... She was just glad to know anybody was actually alive.  
  
But to see that old, familiar mug - forever gaunt-faced with short brown hair barely drifting past the nape of her skull, with her tattered denim jacket, yellow scarf, and general dirt-clad everything was ... well a sight for sore eyes.  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake," Piper laughed.  
  
The Minutemen general opened her arms wide, grinning broadly from ear to ear. "Trashcan Carla! So good of you to join us, sweetheart!"  
  
____________  
  
  
It wasn't just Carla, either. Two mercenaries, along with the trigger-happy Cricket, had come seeking shelter inside Kendall. the inclusion of the last three members made their lack of weaponry _and_ ammunition all the more incomprehensible.  
  
"We were raided," Carla told them as the group backtracked to the surgery room. "A couple of the caravaneers held out over at Bunker Hill. Not a lot of radiation, which is kinda surprising considering ... But hey. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"  
  
"So they took your weapons?" Nora asked. "Robbed them off you and just left you alive? That's unusual."  
  
"Rat bastards took my boomstick," Cricket cried, tugging down her yellow hood as far as it could go. Her hands were twitching. "No more blood n' guts - "  
  
"It's not really like that," Carla interrupted. "They tied us up and took our stuff. At first we thought they were gonna go slaver route. Sell us to the Legion or something. But these guys're real freaks, sweetie. Filed their teeth down to fine points. Did the same shit to their fingernails. When they stripped one of Cricket's guys to his nickers and started eating the flesh right off his _bones_ , we figured it was time to get th' fuck outta there."  
  
Rhys turned a marvelous shade of green. "C-cannibals?"  
  
"Ohhhh yeah."  
  
"How'd you escape?" Piper asked. They sat around the burned campfire. Nora toyed with the idea of striking it up again, but Vaughn's anxious glare made her think better of it. He probably thought the firelight would lure the cannibals their way .. and that was a plausible enough theory for Nora to entertain.  
  
"Ehhnn I keep a knife in my boot. Comes in handy sometimes. This ain't the first time I been tied up, yea?"  
  
Nora couldn't bite it back. "And you never invited _me_?" she asked with mock-hurt in her voice, every word dripping with sarcasm. "For shame, Carla."

Carla and Piper both burst into a fit of laughter. Rhys actually chuckled, much to Nora's surprise. _Look who's warming up to the crude humor!_  
  
She waited for the humor to settle before pressing on with further inquisitions. "Were you the only ones there at Bunker Hill?" Silence fell upon the room. Cricket twitched. Carla looked down shamefully. " ... Carla?"  
  
"No," the junk vendor gulped.  
  
"No?"  
  
"There were, uh ... civs."  
  
Nora didn't like the sudden guilt riding shotgun on Carla's face. "Kessler?"  
  
Carla nodded.  
  
"Old man Stockton?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"The kid?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What happened to _them_?" A certain bite possessed her tone. Nora wasn't sure if she was appreciative of her own snippiness or not.  
  
"I don't know. They were bound up when I left."  
  
"For the love of fuck, Carla, please tell you didn't just _ditch_ them there!"  
  
Trashcan Carla's cheeks burst into fiery volcanoes. She leaned forward, fists clenched atop her knees. "And what the fuck was I s'pposed to do, 'uh? I ain't no goddamn hero, _general_. Sure as shit if I had my guns, maybe I coulda gone in blazin' hellfire. But with a fucking _switchblade_?"  
  
Nora moaned into her hands. "I _know_ that."  
  
"Do ya? 'Cause I didn't fuckin' leave 'em behind jus cause I felt the _need_ ta, ya understand? It was self-preservation. We didn't have the manpower. We sure as shit didn't have the _firepower_ , and we - "  
  
"How many were there?"  
  
"At Bunker Hill? Shit, it was a scout troop, I think. Maybe ten."  
  
"Well-armed?"  
  
"Did some guerilla warfare kinda crap. I don't think they had much in the way of guns _before_ , but they sure as hell got 'em now."  
  
Eye peering behind spreading fingers, Nora lowered her eyebrow and entertained something with mild concentration. Piper picked up on it almost immediately. "Nora, we only _just_ patched up."  
  
Her responding grin was toothy, knowing. "Yeah, and?"  
  
Piper stifled a snicker. "Of course."  
  
It was Rhys who protested. Oculars growing wide again, his synthetic orb brightened considerably in comparison to the way it was prior. "But - but we're supposed to be meeting up with everybody at the - "  
  
"Castle?"  
  
All eyes turned on Cricket. She was positively beaming, pupils so small that one couldn't shine the tiniest beam of light into them.  
  
"How did you know?" Vaughn sputtered.  
  
"'Cause we passed a bunch of 'em freaks by the Pickman Gallery. Guessin' that psycho killah was hidin' some civs in the underground, keepin' 'em safe from raiders or sumthin'. We missed a helluva gunfight. Blood _everywhere_ \- it was friggin' awesome!"  
  
Rhys and Vaughn backed away from the gun-crazed merchant simultaneously.  
  
"There's more to it than that," one of the mercenaries broke into the conversation. He was an older man, gray strands littering his bushy brown beard. Scars of all sorts stretched from one side of his face to the other, but the most notable one was the Glasgow kiss at the corners of his lips. "Like Cricket said, we came in the aftermath of a massive fight. A bunch of those Sawtooth raiders were gathering up the civilians Pickman was keepin' secret. Got the serial killer, too."  
  
Vaughn nudged Piper and whispered, "Pickman's a serial killer?"  
  
The reporter nodded. "Only goes after raiders, though."  
  
"But you're buddy, the good old John Hancock was there, too."  
  
Nora straightened. "Hancock?"  
  
"Yeah. Some chick was with him, too. Did some really good footwork with an SMG. Wiped out a couple of them Sawtooth jackasses before the big boss came in and wailed on her."  
  
The color drained from Rhys' face. "SMG?"  
  
"I'm sure a lot of people use a submachine gun out here, bro," Vaughn attempted to reassure him.  
  
Atlas wouldn't have it. "What did she look like?"  
  
The merc laughed. "A knockout. _Dredlocks_. Ain't seen that kinda hair style in a long time."  
  
Rhys clamped down on his lower lip, bushy brows lowering to meet in the middle of his wide forehead. "Ahhhnnn .... "  
  
"You said they mentioned the Castle?" Nora interrupted. "Why?"  
  
"They're meeting with the Legion there. You know. Those assholes that started creeping across the Commonwealth? Yeah, they'd been scratching their way towards the Minutemen base for the last few days from the looks of it." Dirty fingernails scratched the underside of his beard. Dandruff snowed out. "I ain't heard of slavers since Paradise Falls fell some years back. But these guys ... they're tryin' to do just that. Kidnap civs. Sell 'em as slaves to the Legion. Get their good faith. And the Castle's just a nice big gift waiting to have a bow tied around it, if ya catch my drift."  
  
Nora was actually growling now. Dipping her head low, the menacing vigilante-esque Silver Shroud transformed into a far more brooding beast. "And Bunker Hill?"  
  
"Those scouts were makin' the captives walk the minute we got outta sight," Carla told her. "My guess is they're gonna regroup with the bigger one pretty soon. That was ... maybe a day ago?"  
  
"Only a day?"  
  
"Shit happens really fast here, Nora. You know that better than anyone else."  
  
"So if we start for the Castle now, chances are we'll run into the smaller group before we hit the bigger one, right?"  
  
"You got it."  
  
Removing her hands from her face, Nora folded them both neatly under her chin. Rhys remained quiet, his eyes far away. Vaughn could not appear to rouse him.  
  
"Piper?" Nora started.  
  
The reporter started. :Yeah?"  
  
"Where's the USS Constitution nowadays?"  
  
"Piper watched the ceiling, deep in thought. "Last I saw, they went back to their old roost just east of here. What're you thinking?"  
  
"I want you and Vaughn to take Carla and her merry band of merchants over there. We're in good standing with Captain Ironsides, so ... he'll be willing to ferry you guys over to the Castle. You'll get there in no time, so warn the folks in the Institute of what's coming." So many gears were spinning in her head. "If you tell the cap what's going on, I'm sure he'd jump into the fight, as well." The thought of cannons blitzing their way into Legion (and raider) ranks was mentally pleasing.  
  
Vaughn blinked. "But Rhys - "  
  
"Is coming with me." The Atlas CEO blinked. Handsome chin raising so their eyes met, the turmoil was so evident behind his human brown iris that it was almost painful to survey. "Unless there's any objection?"  
  
"Why?' his voice cracked: so tired.  
  
"I don't do any roundabout bullshit," she answered with a wink. "Gonna make a beeline towards the Sawtooth raiders. Small posse first. Bigger one next. Free as many settlers as we can, arm them, and overtake the jagoffs. Sound good?"  
  
"Sounds shaky. Do you ... really think it'll work?"  
  
"Not sure, but hey, we'll make it happen."  
  
She sounded remarkably like Fiona: pulling a plan out of her ass and running with it, full-speed, with nothing but honest-to-goodness willpower and the confidence that nothing could go wrong. But while Rhys would have been skittish to adhere to Fiona's plan of action, listening to Nora now started the tiniest incipient fire in his knotting gut and the smallest voice in the back of his head was cajoling, _This is possible. We can **do** this._  
  
He became painfully aware of one thing. "I can't fight."  
  
"Stay as resourceful as everybody says you've been, and you won't need to." Damn it, she was smiling wider and wider every time her lips parted. "Though it wouldn't hurt if I taught you a thing or two on the way there."  
  
Amusement twinkled behind his human eye. "This how you got your job as general?"  
  
"Ppppfffffffftttwweeeeeeelllllllll yeaaaaaaaaaaah."  
  
"That's ... troubling."  
  
" _Pfft_ , c'mon now. That's one reason I'm planning to hand the title off to Preston, whenever I see that pain in the ass. I'm too spontaneous for my own good." Running a hand through her hair, Nora cheekishly added, "That's not a bad plan of action either. You could cut everybody free while I distract them. Save your wifey thing - " Rhys burst into crimson " - and save the day."  
  
The caravaneers watched the display bemusedly. Vaughn appeared vexed. Or terrified. Nora couldn't decide which. Piper offered a steadying hand to his shaking shoulder. "Listen, we've got this covered. It's really not the first time we've had to go charging into a raider encampment."  
  
"Or Gunners," Nora continued merrily.  
  
"Or Super Mutants."  
  
"Or feral ghouls."  
  
"Or - "  
  
"Yeah, if we could _not_ make me _shit a brick_ before leaving, that would be _fan-fucking-tastic_ ," Rhys snapped.  
  
Piper laughed while Nora gawked, slack-jawed. "Hoooooooly shit, he _curses_! So, so ... !" Keeling forth from her Indian-style pose, Nora pressed the palms of her hands against the ground and stretched in Rhys' direction, staying low so as to look up at him with a wide, hopeful eye. "Whatcha say, Atlas? Wanna tag-team some sharp-toothed dipshits with your big sister, the Institute?"  
  
He could not account for the giddy sensation bubbling in the depths of his, nor could he understand the hungry anticipation that dripped from his brain when his mouth responded with a, "Why the hell not. We are going to _die_." Sasha was in danger. He could not abide to stand idly by.  
  
"Not _die_. Maybe terribly maimed, but I won't let us get killed." Nora stood, hands clapping together. "Then we leave in the hour, folks. And Piper?"  
  
"Blue?"  
  
"When you _do_ get to the Castle, please find my goddamn Pip-Boy. I feel naked without it."  
   
   
   
   
   
   
  



	23. The Downward Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING.  
> HEAVY IMPLICATION/MILD DESCRIPTION OF RAPE.  
> I will never write smut. But if a little graphic blh bothers you, may want to skip over it.

 

When the calls of strife and bloody disaster dissolved into a far more terrifying silence, dawn was on the rise. MacCready led their escape from the cellar. Opening those heavy iron doors was an arduous process: a weight had been cast atop it. With some struggling and shaking and pounding, he'd managed to force whatever had fallen off and freed them all from captivity.

It was with a wrinkled nose that he cast his eyes upon the corpse of a super mutant. It's body was riddled with so many bullet holes and feral bites that discerning the mortal wound was an impossible task.

"They got really close," Fiona murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Of all of them, she was the only one able to pass into a restful slumber. Codsworth had no need of it, and MacCready was too leery of the lumbering thuds above ground.

"Not just close," corrected the mercenary. He embraced their scenery with a grim narrowing of his eyes and a rather morbidly-aware frown.

It'd only been a night and the blood had not yet soured, but Codsworth covered his nose anyway and groaned into his palm. "Oh my _word_ ... "

Carnage was their backdrop. The ground was so littered with bodies in different states of disrepair. Most were feral ghouls, fewer were super mutants, and the corpses of Legionnaires were an intermediate factor. There were clods of flesh so mangled and torn that they no longer represented the species they were assigned to. And if one squinted really hard, they might make out the ripped uniform of a Minutemen felled in the assault - something that made the battle-hardened Gunner's stomach twitch with illness.

MacCready endured a grueling, tortuous initiation rite into the Gunners. He'd killed innocent marks for just enough caps to earn him a night's stay at the Hotel Rexford or a few drinks at the Third Rail. Jammed grenades into the mouths of his former employers when they came knocking. Stormed the Mass Pike Interchange with Nora and Nick Valentine in tow. Gore and viscera followed him every step of the way. Silenced screams. Gurgling pleads. But this ... this was something that transcended the unworthy callousness of settled vendettas and thoughtless jobs. Though he had spilled blood, it had not been enough to soak the soil's entirety in Sanctuary Hills.

This was war-time battlefield, not some little Commonwealth skirmish.

And that mutant ...

If it hadn't fallen atop the cellar door, would they have been swarmed with combatants? Would they have ended up just like every deformed meat bag out here?

MacCready reached for Fiona's hand. Her digits were so tiny against his own, but they wrapped warmly about his knuckles. Through the iron-scented fumes, he could manage a smile.

So did she. Briefly. It faded into trepidation - scared anxiety. "We should look around real quick," the con artist told him. "Make sure ... you know ... "

He understood her implication, knew the source of her lingering dread. "Alright," he agreed, squeezing her hand lightly. "Follow me. Codsworth? Keep close. Dunno if all those ghouls are - " The synthetic human stepped too close to a roamer's head and the teeth snapped at his ankles. Codsworth drew back with a startled yelp. " - dead."

"But it has no legs!" cried the once-hovering Mr. Handy. "How the heavens can it sustain life with no legs?"

"I don't know if you can call what a ghoul's got 'life', Codsbot."

MacCready didn't tug at Fiona. Instead he let her lead the way. They scrounged through the mess with little success. Bits and pieces of shrapnel, empty bullet casings, a bit of skull that belonged to who-knew-what and scraps of armor too destroyed to be strapped back together. Piles were picked apart with whatever tool they could get their hands on. When those failed, the task fell to their fingers, once-living remains clotting their nails. Codsworth hung back. His suit was far too nice to be dirtied up, he claimed, but he did aid in pointing out irregularities. There was a super mutant with rippling muscles the haze of pale indigo. And a raider band leaped into the fray at some point - possibly to hoard what goodies would be left over. MacCready doubted any of them walked away with treasure considering how many of their corpses riddled the rubble.

But what they _didn't_ find was what they _had_ been looking for. No Sasha. No Rhys. No signs of the other crew: simultaneously relieving and troubling, because Deacon's carcass was nowhere to be seen. But there were so many globules of unidentified meat hanging around that he could have easily been one (or several) of them. Feral ghouls weren't known to leave scraps behind. MacCready's stomach did a harsh little flip. Once a heavy eater, now the eaten ... Would the Railroad heavy find some humor at his ironic fate in the afterlife?

Fiona perked and jerked hard enough to rip her hand from MacCready's. "Oh shit," she hissed through clenched teeth and pursed lips, legs moving of their own accord.

Her eyes darkened with so much dread that the Gunner expected to find her sister in pieces. Instead she stopped at her side, dusty boots settling before a messy nest of tousled blue hair. "Maya?" he asked.

The Vault Hunter nodded. "I was hoping, somehow, maybe she lived. Yeah it was dumb but ... " Fiona rubbed a knuckle across her cheek, smearing old blood across it.

He wanted to nod, comfort her disappointment, but something was odd and out-of-place about the Siren's gouged eye - or rather, what leaked from the oozing socket. MacCready highly doubted the humanoid alien was supposed to have blue blood ... It reeked so harshly of oil and antifreeze that, when he leaned in for closer inspection, the Gunner gagged and retracted.

"Is that normal?"

Remorsefully, Fiona shook her head. "I've, ah, never seen her or Lilith bleed? Maybe it's their thing. Athena would know." She flinched at her own words. "We're gonna have to tell her/"

He'd honestly forgotten about the gladiator, waiting back at the Institute with her girlfriend hooked around her elbow. MacCready's brows knit together tightly in the center of his forehead. "Yeah, you go ahead with that ... "

"What? You don't wanna help me break the news?"

"That's all on you, babe."

She managed a smirk. "To hell with you. I'll kick you into the doghouse so fast - "

"As if I hadn't been _there_ before," MacCready retorted, his mouth forming a small 'o' when Fiona 'humph'-ed in retaliation.

Codsworth cleared his throat. Immediate guilt pricked Fiona's face. "Shit. We shouldn't be doing this."

"What?"

"Joking over her body like this."

"I got the impression you Pandoran folks do that all the time," MacCready said. He immediately raised his hands in surrender when Fiona's flashing glare threw a thousand unworldly needles into his spine. " _I mean_ \- you guys, you Vault Hunters - kinda kill a bunch of people all the time, right?"

"I guess?" her irritation receded into an unknowing shrug. "I haven't really started yet. Could say the same of you Gunners though, can't I?"

" _Former_ Gunner," growled MacCready.

"Either or ... "

Her nonchalance kind of bothered him. "Don't you feel sad?" he pressed, concerned. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"

"I didn't know her, really." If this had been Athena, or Janey, it would have been a different story. But all she could feel now was sympathy - and pending dread when it came to informing the gladiator one of her former companions had been so callously murdered by a monster. "We should bury her ... "

" _Here_?"

"You had somewhere else in mind?"

"No - it's just - we need to find everybody else - "

A blur of black and white exploded past them. It took Fiona and MacCready a few seconds to realize that blur of monochrome color had been Codsworth. His scrawny, short legs propelled him into the distance, eyes wide with something reminiscent of fear. The two exchanged glances momentarily before giving chase. Calling after the Synth yielded no beneficial results, though it did cause the robotic butler to flag them over with his white-gloved hand.

He finally came to a halt well beyond their current location - far past the monster tree, so close to the bridge (now collapsed from the stress of a dozen bombs and a thousand bullets, laying in a wrecked pile of splintered wood at the river's base, where the water carelessly overlaid it). A short column of sparks shone spectacularly at his once-polished-but-now-dusty black shoes, reflecting off of their shimmering domes.

MacCready was the first to reach him. Nearly. "Codsbot?"

At twenty feet away, the robot man collapsed. The knees of his fine black trousers had no problem soaking in the dampness of blood-soaked earth. Ten feet away - MacCready could see his hands trembling. And within a foot the Gunner heard him break into a fit of woeful sobbing, bringing his hands to his face.

"Ohhh," Codsworth moaned into his palms. The Goodneighbor merc rested his hand upon the butler's shoulder. He was shaking profusely. "Ohhhhh, _Curie_ ... "

At a later time, MacCready might muse over the common way he addressed the lady bot. No 'Miss' or 'Madame', and it was certainly a nice change from using 'mum' all the damn time when Nora was around. That air of familiarity intermingled with an air of fondness one might see betwixt a young couple. And later, he would wonder if robots could romance ...

But right now, poor Codsworth was a wrecking ball of emotions. He bawled, he sniveled, he groaned. And with good reason, for half-buried in the ground beneath him was Curie's skull. Wires and coolant tubes poked through the severed portion of her thin, dainty neck. The skin had been sheared away gruffly - torn in larger patches here and smaller ones there. Her body lay undisturbed another foot or two away. MacCready was surprised no feral ghoul had slandered the corpse, but then was there any true flesh adhered to it?

He could not help but swallow hard at the sight. Even Fiona was forced to cover her mouth, frowning between spread fingers, making his uncomfortable nature in this situation all the more apparent.

"Codsworth," he tried to whisper, tried to console ... but the Mr. Handy Synth was reduced to a blubbering mess. One hand reached for Curie's face. It retracted immediately, fearful of the cold texture that awaited his touch. Woeful rivulets fell down his handsome cheeks - a sight to be seen, for sure. MacCready didn't know Synths could cry. Valentine sure as hell never did, though he'd watched the detective pace restlessly back and forth, back and forth, for several endless weeks (or had it been months?) following Nora's disappearance. Maybe the final generation of Synths could weep, though he'd sure as hell never seen Danse so much as bat an eye.

That was a hell of a comparison. The older model Synth could show more emotion than the damn-near-human gen.

Fiona hunched next to Codsworth, whispering sweet words in an attempt to quell his misery. Maybe it hadn't been wholly effective but the butler did reduce his sobs long enough to steady the trembling in his artificial fingers. One set of fingers enclosed around Curie's mop of hair. The other encircled her opposing cheek. Codsworth pulled her decapitated framework close to his chest, brushed lockes from her face, and continued with his weeping.

MacCready had maybe a few seconds to dwell on what might have caused this ... before the base of her severed neck lit with spasming sparks and a distinct burning wire odor.

And her eyes _flew_ open. " _Mon amour_."

Before he knew it, Fiona was laughing. "Really, Mac?"

"Screw you," he seethed, recollecting himself from the ... five-or-so foot jump he'd cleared 'with extreme grace an catlike reflexes'. The merc went to blow a raspberry at the Vault Hunter, but the brunette was already leaning over Codsworth's shoulders with wide eyes as the butler nuzzled his face into Curie's scalp, free-weeping. A great weight lifted itself from his shoulders. "How are ... how's she alive? Not that I'm not fuc - _hrmm_ \- freaking _ecstatic_ she's kicking. Maybe no so much _kicking_ but - "

" _Mac_ ," Fiona's warning hiss was barely discernible over Codsworth's continued cries and Curie's attempted soothesays.

" _Mon amour_ , please, it eez alright!"

"You were - I thought I lost - "

"I am alive, _mon_ _chéri_!"

"And we're happy you are," Fiona pressed onward, butting her way verbally between the reunited lovers, "but um ... about that ... _how_ are you alive? Your body is, like, ripped to Pandora and then some, so ... "

"Ze Brozerhood, 'ou see," Curie responded while she closed her eyes against the warmth of Codsworth's chest, "'zey did not know 'ow to - ah - _create_ Synths as ze Institute deed. Zey vould be ashamed to admit eet, but ze Institute was far more advanced zan ze Brozerhood could ever be."

The butler was finally coming down from his hysteria. Sniffing back what remained of his tears (and running snot, what a mess), he drew back with reddened eyes. "They were able to get a grasp on how to create synth-synthetic skin," he hiccuped, "well enough, along with functioning tear ducts and a few other glands ... but to produce artificial organs? It was just slightly out of reach." He lowered his voice just so. "If we are being honest, I believe the Brotherhood of Steel was fearful that adapting the Institute's bioscience would turn them into shadows of their former enemies - a fully justified fear, I might add."

"They had no problem ripping pre-war technologies from everybody else, though." growled the Gunner.

"Bear in mind, Mister MacCready, that the Commonwealth at that point was just recovering from the terrifying hold the Institute held over it. The idea of creating Synths was as nightmarish as it was enigmatic." The butler drew Curie's face close to his own, pressing his lips against her forehead. She sighed at the touch, exposed circuitry sparkling a little more brilliantly. "We are more closely related to Mister Valentine than we are, for example, Elder Danse - " MacCready flinched at the name " - or, ah, Miss Glory from the Railroad. "All hard wires and electronics beneath the flesh. Prototypes, if you will. Gen 2.5s." With the sleeve of his black suit, Codsworth wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He tittered at the wetness. "Oh my, I'll be on a fast track to rusting my endoskeleton at this rate, won't I? A pity I've run through my warranty," he chortled.

MacCready's smirk was tired, edged with mixed sensations and emotions. "We should get you back to the Institute, get Curie repaired." The suggestion left a bitter taste on his tongue, but what other option was there?

"And once she's got a body again, we can all look for the others and plan our next move," Fiona agreed.

"Ze others?"

"Yeah. Missin' Sasha and Rhys and ... well, _everybody_."

"I received a transmission shortly before zees happened, _madame_. Zat ze Minutemen 'ave arrived at ze edge of Sanctuary Hills. As far as I can tell, everybody 'as been evacuated." Curie's gray eyes opened slowly, returning attention to Fiona with a smile that looked so _morbid_ considering he decapitated predicament. "Zey 'ave retreated to ze Castle. _Mais_ , I vas vith Sasha before my, ahm, _incident_ 'appened."

Fiona jerked upright. "You were?!"

" _Oui oui_! I told her to run, 'ou see. I 'ave not seen her since, al'zough I saw _Monsieur_ Hancock running past me in ze same direction Sasha 'as gone. And my perceptual scanners indicated zey vere vithin reach of one anozer before zey went offline."

The Vault Hunter sunk into herself with a weary, but happy, little groan. MacCready grinned. "Oh goodie. She's with the good ol' mayor? Man, I feel _bad_ for her." Fiona glared. The merc dismissed her caustic expression with a wave of his hand. "Relax, babe, she's in good n' grubby hands. Hancock can be a bit _grabby_ sometimes but he's not gonna go and let her get killed."

"She might let _him_ , though, if he tries anything," Fiona warned. "Curie, did you see Rhys?"

"In fact, I did. He vas at ze Red Rocket vith _monsieur_ Vaughn - "

MacCready exchanged looks with Fiona. It wasn't hard to see past the horizon now that the smoke and dust had settled. The refueling station that stood so predominantly against the rising sun had not-so-mysteriously vanished from view, replaced with a cavernous abyss.

" - vith _madames_ Cait, Piper, and Nora."

" _ **Mum**_?!" Codsworth yelped. Grimy white gloves clutched Curie's skull delicately beneath the ears. He hoisted her into the air: eyes wide, mouth gaping, overall incredulous. "Did you - did you say _**mum**_?!"

Judging from Curie's enthusiastic smile, the answer was clear. MacCready felt his heart leap into his chest, effectively denying his lungs the chance to expand. "She's _alive_ , that was really _her_ \- !"

"Indeed! She vas very terribly vounded, but I was able to stabilize 'er and - please, _mon amour_ , do not cry!"

Too late. Codsworth's torrential waterfall was flowing once again.

MacCready tugged on Fiona's elbow, pulling her close enough to him so that he could whisper into her ear, "This changes things up a little." Her head tilted: she was listening. "We need to go to the Institute for Curie, but with Danse heading that way anyhow ... "

Fiona stifled a grumble. The corner of her mouth spasmed downwards. "You don't think he'd spring a trap, do you?"

"I'm more worried about him going after Boss." The age-old nickname was lost on Fiona. "Nora. He might - you didn't see him when we were heading to the Glowing Sea, Fi. He was _obsessed_ with her." The average fool might call that level of fanaticism _love_. MacCready had been around long enough to know better. "If we go by foot, we've a better chance of bumping into them _first_ \- "

"If they got through the fall okay, they're gonna more than halfway there, aren't they? Mac, it'll take us way too long to catch up."

"Pardon me, if I may?" Codsworth interrupted. Puffy eyes watched them with rousing consternation. "I ... may not fully agree with your suspicions of Elder Danse." MacCready got ready to argue. The butler silenced him with the sternest of glowers ever to be present on the Synth's face. "However, the prospect of mum being in danger, however minuscule the chance, is ... _unthinkable_ to me. I thought I'd lost her for 200 years, you understand. And now _this_... And if you're suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting, I _refuse_ to drag Curie around with us in her current state - "

" _Mon amour_ \- "

"So we _**will**_ be going to the Institute," his suddenly firm accented voice continued, unrelenting, "and we _**will**_ be leaving Curie there so that she may be repaired. And then we _**will**_ look for mum."

Damn. Fiona gulped. "Still leaves us with the whole problem of getting to the Institute. Either way, we'd need to walk."

"I have a solution for that," Codsworth winked. "I ... may have done some research during my time inside the Institute. About the Synths. Primarily Coursers ... and the chips they used to get back and forth. Quite fascinating, if I do say so myself!"

MacCready's disbelieving face fell. "You're _kidding_ me."

"Absolutely not, sir, although I do enjoy a good joke every now and then. Did I ever tell you about the blind man who walked into a bar? And a chair. And a table - "

The Gunner wasn't laughing. "You had a courser chip in you _the whole time_?"

"Why, yes."

"And you _never told us_ because ... ?"

"Well, I didn't think it would be necessary."

" _Why_ didn't you think it was necessary?!" Wild gesticulations indicated their former cellar of a hideout. "We slept in a _basement_!"

"But we were safe, were we not?" he quipped with a rising brow. "And had we left in the middle of the night, we would not have discovered that valuable information. About Elder Danse. About mum's ... involuntary pregnancy." The titular earth-bound pull of his lips spoke volumes of his angst on the subject.

"Or the whole bit with Yvette and Maya," Fiona attempted to pull them away from the rather unsavory topic. "And the _Vault_ somewhere n the Glowing Sea." A hungry thing flashed across her irises, briefly illuminating the darkness of her restricted pupils. MacCready was well-acquainted with his own cap thirst to understand the thought process culminating behind those beautiful orbs.

He was certain he would have been right there with her, too, if it hadn't been for the holotape's documentation of a monster that struck fear into the abominable Caesar's army.

"With my courser chip installed," Codsworth went on, lowering Curie's head and relieving a hand to tweak at his mustache - a clear show of rattled nerves getting the best of him, "we shall be able to transport to the Institute so Missus Curie may be repaired." MacCready blinked. _Missus?_ "And then we shall teleport to another destination post-haste and find mum."

Fiona frowned. "' _We'_ , though? Maybe you should stay with Curie, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not!" His retort came harsher than was to be expected. The flinching of his companions caused Codsworth to retract apologetically. "I - I want to be with Curie as she ... but ... For two years, I have been searching for mum tirelessly. Now that I know she is alive, possibly in danger, and now - _pregnant_ \- I ... cannot simply sit idly by." Codsworth twisted his hand this way and that, throwing it under keen observation. "I may be lacking a saw and flamethrower, but I am _far_ from useless. Having a medically trained robot on your side is a tactical decision - especially for _you_ Mister MacCready."

The Gunner resigned with futility. "You gotta point there."

"I ... I hope you understand, darling." Codsworth was watching Curie now.

Her lips, still luscious and pink even when disconnected from her body's narrow shoulders, lifted. "Of course, _mon mari_."

To which Fiona bumped shoulders with MacCready and asked, a little too loudly, "Are they married or something?"

And Codsworth beamed, reddened sclera doing nothing to dim the glow of his oculars. "For a little over a year, yes."

 

* * *

 

 

They'd parted ways at Bunker Hill.

It was a tenuous separation. Rhys and Vaughn had just enough time for a singular fist bump between mission briefings before the bandit king was escorted off by the caravan runners. And he'd hesitated, maybe would have stayed rooted to the spot ... if Piper hadn't caught his arm, gently nudging him along the beaten path. Something about the way she smiled - that luminous charm beneath black hair and grime - instilled a spark of confidence.

He couldn't help but look over his shoulder as they walked. By the time they crossed the first threshold of business buildings, Rhys and Nora were already at the bridge leading into what had once been Boston.

Vaughn returned to focus on their destination. Maybe his time on Pandora hardened him into a stronger person than he was two or three years ago, but it was that nagging sensation of fear that forced him to swallow hard. This place was wild - wilder than Pandora. Probably.

Grimacing at the throbbing in his recently mended arm, Vaughn clasped the pocket watch hidden in his pants. Couldn't Cassius forge a fast-travel any faster? Every second on this god-forsaken planet was one more second he'd have to spend _not dying_. The ruined Helios' hot showers had never sounded so _welcoming_. Soft beds. Foraged food. Good company. He could get back on track managing trading routes and setting up defenses. Yvette would meet him with a list of things they needed and complain about their coffee machines being broken.

 _Yvette_. Vaughn's chest seized up.

He released the pocket watch and sighed. No use crying over spilled milk. You play with the hand you're dealt with, right?

The caravaneers and their body guards went tense. They raised their weapons, scoping out the area, and Piper tapped his shoulder with the butt of her pistol. "Look alive, short stuff," she told him while double-checking her clip.

His left hand was already suited up with the deathclaw gauntlet. Vaughn fished for his plasma pis - oh wait, that's right, _no ammo_. "Is it ... hostile here?"

"Scavvers come and go. They like to try and loot the bots," Piper shrugged. She'd dropped back to walk alongside him. The USS Constitution was slowly coming into sight - her towering masts looming more and more ominous with each passing second. The reporter grinned - teeth stained a pale yellow through nicotine use but charming nonetheless. "Couple years ago, Nora managed to get a cease fire long enough to bargain with their outfit for a part the bots needed. Lasted maybe five minutes before they decided it wasn't good enough and started raining bullets on us."

Vaughn chuckled through his anxiety. "Nick too, huh?" He had a hard time imagining the grizzled old detective doing much of anything but hovering over case files.

"Oh yeah! Had a little too much fun using their cannons, if you ask me. The whole time he kept quoting these old black-and-white motion pictures about pirates. Even asked for a damn _peg leg_ when his own got blown off. Nora humored him with a plunger until we could get him repaired." She was chuckling to herself, reminiscing a little fondly while biting down the butt of an unlit cigarette.

"Jeez! I can't see him even throwing a punch!"

"He could scrap with the best. Still can." Piper struggled with a lighter. "We had a tight little crew back then. Especially those two. They were nearly inseparable."

Vaughn slowly eased. Piper carried so much sass about her that he felt it beginning to rub off on him, shaking his fears ... They were nearer to the ship's massive bodice now. Her weathered wooden planks looked like they had seen better days, but were in good enough condition to keep the maiden from suffering too much under heavy rainfall. The USS Constitution rested upon a building, crumbled to virtually nothing but broken stairs and shattered walls. He wondered how it'd gotten there - maybe a rogue wave some long time ago? - until he finally notice the two huge rockets tethered to her stern.

A rather battered Mister Handy hovered at the ruin's entrance. And just above them, he was almost certain he heard the whirring of robotic wheels, the droning of a metallic voice. "Did you say ... bots?"

Piper took a puff. Those fantastic illuminations cast upon her by the cherry's burning glow and the spotlight's blinding glare lended an almost angelic silhouette to an already pretty face. Vaughn missed a step, catching himself just before both feet left the ground.

"You heard me right," she beamed. "The USS Constitution is run entirely by robots."

In the darkness above the spotlights came a voice like an Englishman in a tin can. "Ahoy there, Boatswain Wright! It has been a good few years since my optical scanners have sensed your presence!" If Vaughn squinted, he could see a tiny head atop a bulky body. And was that ... a tricorn hat? "Mr. First Mate, please lower the dinghy!"

The responding monotone of a Protectron: "Aye aye, Captain!"

 

* * *

 

 

Even in the dark, the devastation wrought upon Boston was as clear as day.

Nora had to stand at the bridge for a few moments. Probably longer than she should have. But a grueling lump in her throat made it hard to gulp, the burning stinging the corners of her eye made it hard to blink. So she opted to breath - deep, shuddering breaths that took a momentous effort to quell into something more manageable.

She was aware of Rhys watching her. His mouth had skewered downwards : disapproving or sympathetic, she couldn't tell. She didn't really care, either.

How many died when that nuke went off? Piper's brief summary of details ensured the safety of some settlements and a majority of her friends. But there were always so many settlers straying in from beyond the Commonwealth, roaming the lands where civilization had yet to prosper. How many children? How many parents? How many elders and vagabonds and Synths?

Gone was Trinity Tower, where they'd rescued Strong and one Rex Goodman. Gone were _all_ of the high-rises. Not a single memory of what once had been - no Diamond City, no Goodneighbor, no detective agency ... No nothing. Everything was reduced to rubble and ash - tombs for those who could not escape in time.

The Hyperion - no, _Atlas_ \- touched her shoulder just so. "We should - um - probably go ... Before it gets light out."

Nora ran a hand through her platinum blond hair. Only upon pulling it back did she realize she was trembling. "Yeah."

Though she harbored nothing but terror at the idea of strolling through a once slowly rebuilding city, the general was glad to be leaving Bunker Hill. It'd had enough locked containers and chests for her to let Rhys tinker with (lockpicking was an essential asset, after all, and he would have to learn), but there had been so much blood ...

"The Sawtooth raiders, huh?" she breathed. Long coat flapping behind her with each smoke-carrying gust of gentle wind, Nora grabbed a hunk of concrete and scrawled their names onto one of the bridge's stone slabs. She wrote in Piper's and Vaughn's after careful thought, adding directional arrows beside their names to indicate they'd gone a different direction. "You know, I've never been a heavy judge on cannibals. Gotta do what you gotta do when you're starving and whatnot ... "

Rhys' reaction was understandable. His nose crinkled and his eyebrows lowered. "It's _disgusting_."

"Maybe ... but you ever hear of the Andes flight disaster?" He became instantly confused and Nora mentally slapped herself. "Of course he doesn't, Nora. He's not from here. So this plane crashed into the Andes mountains. A good quarter of them died. They were stranded up there for a month in freezing temperatures. Ran out of food and supplies, so all they could do to live was, well, _eat_ the other passengers who'd passed away and froze."

They slowly began making their way across the bridge, each lightly gripping the handles of their chosen weapons. "Desperate times, I guess," Rhys mused. "You wouldn't catch me dead doing that. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself. Doesn't eating people give you the shakes or something?"

"I think it's psychosomatic, really. Can't wrap your mind around the fact that you're eating somebody of your own species, with their own family and crap." Nora kept touching her stomach, half-expecting that previously gaping hole to be there. "Not gonna lie, if I was starving, on the cusp of death - and I've been there _several times_ \- I'd do it."

Rhys made a retching noise.

And Nora smirked. " _Human_ broil."

The alien's easily-aggravated gag reflex was enough to keep her amusement and mind going when it wanted, more than anything, to become numb.

 

* * *

 

 

Dogmeat had a snout that just wouldn't fail. And the pooch was damned _fast_. At least the German Shepherd was also attentive to her followers - she had to stop several times for the Synth detective to catch up, impatiently barking at him each time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," his gravelly voice rolled off as he clambered over a heap of rocks. His bad hand struck them a little too hard and a little too fast. Sparks bounced onto the ground. "My makers didn't give me four legs, y'know." His right knee was bouncing too much - worn like everything else in his old body. Probably a loose screw.

She waited long enough for him to reach the tip of her wagging tail before jettisoning off again. This endless game of cat-and-mouse continued for quite some time. They surpassed Lexington by now - headed into a different direction entirely. Cambridge was just coming into view when the sun decided to rise.

Eventually the ground leveled out into a road and Dogmeat broke into a full sprint. It was all Nick Valentine could do to keep up without stumbling over some loose piece of asphalt or a pothole - he couldn't complain, it wasn't like the city was doing anything to keep up with road work anymore.

When the sleuth hound halted suddenly, Valentine damn near careened into her. Today was not one of his more graceful days ... He felt so off-balance with that _thing_ in his _head_ that wouldn't go away. But it'd been silent up until this point. Maybe he'd been hallucinating. Another mnemonic impression there for a temporary stay. But it hadn't sounded like Kellogg.

Dogmeat was begging, yapping, demanding his attention. And Valentine would be a fool not to give it.

It was then that he saw the abyss.

He remembered seeing it at least a year and a half ago, give or take a few months. That sinkhole had opened up when too much erosion seeped through the cracks and weakened whatever slabs of rock had been keeping it aloft. It was deep enough to keep even the most adventurous wayfarers away - and it cave-diving didn't drive them off, the lore of nesting mirelurks certainly would have.

Large splotches of coagulated blood fanned from the hole to beyond. A heavy fishy aroma wafted up his nostrils and Valentine slapped his good hand against his noise. "Oh, that is _wretched_." Dogmeat whined. "I hope you didn't come here looking for dinner, pooch."

Nick had to do a double-take, because it almost looked like her eyes _rolled_. Maybe it was his imagination. Or his eyes were going bad. He was willing to bet on the latter.

Her nose struck towards the ground, hazed just above it. Then she was moving again. Trotting this time. Wherever they were headed, it wasn't far.

Just up the hill, past a flatbed truck with fresh fingerprints pressed against it's thin layer of fallout dust (the synapses in the back of his robotic brain began firing off little alarm bells), was the corpse of a mirelurk king. Vicious bastards with beautiful multi-colored frills, they would have been a delicacy for the oculars had they not been so goddamned mean. This one certainly didn't have any bite left in it, bissected as it was. A hint of electrical burn tinged the neatly sliced raw flesh.

Nick was sure for a second that the world had spun. He knew that handiwork. Knew the mark left from an electrified blade ...

Dogmeat skirted eastward again. She'd picked up the blood trail and followed it into a grassy knoll. The soil was soft here. Several footprints left their indentations, intermingling with mahogany splashes. Judging by the space between them, whoever owned them had been running.

There was a lump of something pale and red in the distance. Nick groaned as they came upon it. The Shepherd's tremulous whine signaled her own fleeting woe.

"Oh _Cait_ ... "

Once brilliantly energetic and rudely aggressive, the former cage fighter's sunken eyes were closed against the dawning Red Giant in the sky. Whatever color formerly flowed through her flesh had been drained with the rest of her blood. A good portion of her lower body was missing, with chunks ripped from her arms and torso post-mortem from hungry mongrels. He touched her neck, some old Nick impulse to feel for a pulse persevering even though Synth Nick knew she was well beyond dead. Cold as ice.

Valentine sighed against the clanking gears rioting in his chest wall. Dogmeat expressed her remorse by licking the woman's faded cheek, but already the hound was prancing. Her tail flapped restlessly, albeit with a new droop to it.

"So they ran here," Nick mused somberly, fishing a cigarette from his breast pocket. A strike of flint later and he was huffing away. "Probably tried carrying her to safety."

_Goddamn it, Cait._

Bright yellow orbs surveyed the small perimeter. Three sets of footprints, a little more set in here because their owners had lingered. One pair was smaller than the others, and it was there that he noticed the patch of matted grass where somebody had laid down. Or fallen. The prints scurried about this point, moved in formation into Cambridge. Though Dogmeat was still sniffing away, he no longer needed her nose at this point ... not until they reached the city's outskirts, whereupon she led him to a building's burnt wall.

A wall with engravings.

They were relatively fresh or at least he thought so. It was a list of names, hastily etched in by two sets of hands due to very different handwriting skills. He knew Hancock's chickenscratch and Piper's slightly looped half-cursive, and he recognized the code: it was something they'd all formulated as a group back when the Institute still stalked the streets.

Nick ran down the names, nerves making him unconsciously chew on the filter. Hancock, Sasha ... gone to the Castle. Piper, Rhys, Vaughn ...

Nora.

He was certain, for a second, that his coolant system went offline. Jammed. Got stuffed up. He didn't know which one. Everything was warm. Nick mimicked the motion of swallowing even though he had no saliva to gulp. His metal claw scratched across the name. A foggy blanket settled over his synthetic mind, and it wasn't until he uttered a small mewl of giddy elation that he noticed he was smiling.

Dogmeat leaned into his leg and barked. He dropped his steel fingers to rub her snout and answered, "You're damn right, girl."

 

* * *

 

 

By daylight they were steaming through the ruins. Under Nora's command, both had adapted to stealth tactics. Neither was willing to get spotted before they knew what was happening. Especially when the enemy was not only armed with razor-sharp teeth, but weapons that would make them full of holes in only a few seconds.

The USS Constitution took longer to depart than she thought it would. _It makes sense,_ she thought when it finally went airborn an hour after they fled Bunker Hill. _That thing needed so many repairs back then. Prolly had some more work to be done before another fly-by._

Captain Ironsides had some sense about him, thankfully. Rather than shooting straight over Boston for the Castle, the ship maintained an eastward trajectory - out over the open sea towards the peninsula housing Boston Airport. Would it be seen? Probably. Was it within firing range? Most definitely not. Unless the Legion had ground-to-air missiles. Fatman not included.

They hadn't exchanged much by way of words - only hand gestures, shrugging shoulders, and throaty notes of (dis)approval. Nora spent most of her time observing Rhys. He'd lost a lot of color in a very short amount of time. His eyes were wide, brows and lids twitching, jumping at every single noise that reached his ears - be it a can rolling onto the asphalt or a cricket finalizing his song. When they stopped to recoup - and that was often - he heard his breathing quicken and saw his knees buckle and shake.

When they reached Goodneighbor's demolished boundaries they could hear a clamor of rugged talk and drunken laughter. Loud, raucous, _violent_. Were they in proximity? Had the Sawtooth raiders nestled here for the moment?

One voice bellowed above the rest. "Bring 'er inta da Third Rail, boys! We're gunna have sum _fun_ 'fore lunch!"

There was a uproarious cheer, in the midst of which could be discerned a muffled, feminine squeak. Nora's intestines knotted loop upon loop. Rhys' teeth chattered. She made a decision.

"Rhys," she called, only speaking in the volume necessary for their distance. He'd leaped out of his skin, of course, but to his credit he didn't yelp. "A word?"

"I - uh - y-yeah, sure, what's ... ?"

They'd crept up behind the Hotel Rexford. Those neon signs were broken in several places, sparks lighting up where severed wires exposed themselves to the outside world. She marveled that there was any power to them _at all_. One side of the entrance had collapsed with a good half of the building itself. Black char marks outlined the windows on the second and third floors. It was still heavy with smoke. Had to be, what with all those coughs erupting from inside.

Those coughs ...

And those pleads for help ...

Crying. Moaning. Pain and suffering. People begging for mercy, pleading to be released. Prisoners.

Nora observed four shadows working their way from the now-single-door to the Old State House. One Sawtooth was leading a duo of members, who were hauling a bound and gagged little girl ... no older than about 13 or so ... with short chestnut hair and a pinstriped shirt smudged with dirt and blood. She was limping, and further inspection revealed a rather gangrenous-looking gash along left calf. And it was driving her nuts because the girl looked so damn familiar and she couldn't place a name -

_Meg._

Her blood ran cold.

"I'm gonna cause a distraction," she whispered with a little more acid in her throat than she meant. _A distraction. Right. More like going in guns blazing. Or sword swinging. Nick would be proud._ Calming her heart with several slow deep breaths was becoming essential, so fierce was her pending rage. And now she _really_ wished the old detective was here. _We could clear this place out in a New York minute._ He'd be proud of that phrase, too, and was probably the only one alive 'cept the pre-war Ghouls to get it. "I know ... I know you didn't have a whole lot of time to play with the lockpick thinger ... but you've got the generalized idea, right?"

He nodded. There was terror in his eyes - he knew she was suggesting they split up before they even said it, and he wanted so badly to refute it.

"This hotel," Nora told him, jerking her thumb into the building's wall. "I think there's survivors in there. might be just a guess and I could be wrong, but you can hear them ... I'm going to the Third Rail. I'll make some noise. Once they come running after me, you go in and see what you can see, yea? Free anybody you find, get them out of Goodneighbor. Leave ... I dunno, leave a cup or something by the door so I know you've cleared the hotel. And I'll meet you back at that Fauneil Hall that I showed you earlier, 'kay?" Rhys didn't answer. He only stared. "You got it?" A nod. "You ready?"

"No?" he choked.

She clapped his shoulder. "Good. You'll do fine." Nora wanted to instill some kind of ego into him, but she was pretty sure the anger was displacing any sort of trust vibes she was trying to send his way. "Don't be seen. If somebody comes back, you hide. Got it?"

Rhys was holding his breath. "What if I get caught?" he asked meekly.

Here her voice did steady. Angling her jaw low, Nora spoke with such a serious tone that Rhys shuddered. "Then I'll get you and kill anybody that gets in my way."

 

* * *

 

Leaving Sanctuary Hills was easy. They were escorted by the blood of their enemies. And there had been many - some dead where they lay, others writhing in the reaper's throes, so far from that mortal release but unable to save their own pathetic lives.

Caesar Lanius made sure to expedite their journey.

Perhaps they had shared a few casualties themselves, but that was to be expected. His Legion would charge unhindered into combat. They would follow any orders without a second thought or a conflicted vision. Should they fall in the battlefield, they would die as champions.

Of course there had been some who fled in terror. Atom's vessel had truly been an intimidating warrior, and the gradual culmination of defensive forces made faith wither in the weak. Caesar Lanius commanded his assassins to exterminate them and not return until they had removed the eyes from their unworthy corpses.

The so-called Green Gem of the Commonwealth was long behind them. Catacombs forged from the poisons of a thousand years lay destitute after his army swarmed over their hideous abominations. Every ghoul and super mutant had been slain for their befoulment of the land. Any _human_ survivor was killed where they stood if they were not healthy enough to be made a viable servant. _And that had been many_.

Gone was the urban wasteland. Before them was the coast. Neptune's water crashed along Terra's rocky shores, ebbing sediment and uncleanliness into torrential frothing white caps, sucked back into the open blue void to be smashed again and again into the cliffside. Fort Independence was but an ancient monstrosity against such a beauteous landscape: a hideous relic of a long ago war that did wonders to tarnish that which was natural.

Caesar Lanius' glorious armor acted as a mirror for Sol Invictus' marvelous heating rays. Perhaps that was what caused the Castle's men to raise the alarm, her hollowed siren wailing long tunes against the demolished Commonwealth. Men rushed to their positions. Flashing silver steel and glowing red rifles. Power armor and laser muskets. _Inferior_. The beginnings of a scourge that once brought mankind crumbling to their knees in dying defeat and would do so again if left unchecked.

They had done well to travel this far, and with such perfect timing. The Minutemen leader and Brotherhood of Steel Elder were both present and standing.

By the end of this battle, he would have both of them on their knees begging for mercy.

Perhaps this hastily, desperately strung together band of fair-weather friends had their strength of will to keep them alive.

The Legion had an army of hundreds.

 

* * *

 

 _"Think about puppies,"_ Nick told her when she was slavering to get into Fort Hagen. _"Or butterflies. Or kittens with those big suspicious eyes. Think of_ _ **anything**_ _. Just calm yourself down before you go chargin' into the thicket of it, doll. I'd hate to be the one scraping you off the floor."_

She tried to think of all those fluffy animals and flutterbyes. She even threw bunnies into the mix. But once the grip of heated irritation got a good grip on her heart, Nora was an unstoppable pain train of vengeance. Sure, she'd come out with a scratch or two. _Sure_ , maybe a bottomless gash or a broken bone. _**Yeah why not**_ , a punctured lung, a concussion, decompensated shock. But she was going to be the only one walking out of it all _alive_. Well, her and her companion of course.

There were many times when her friends applauded her actions, impressed by her endurance. And there were _just as many times_ when she'd scared the ever-loving shit of them. (Save for Strong, who loved every second of mass-evisceration. Even laughed when it was being conducted). Valentine labeled her a spitfire. It worked.

In times like this where she had to be a shadow, Nora took her best lessons from Deacon. _"Be as the fly upon the wall. Observe, but do not interact. Then fly in their face when they least expect it."_

Deacon was a cold body in the middle of Sanctuary Hills. His body was probably being pecked apart by radvultures. Her gut wrenched.

There wasn't a whole lot of cover for her to take advantage of, so Nora resorted to free-climbing to the dilapidated Old State House's roof. Dropping from there onto the balcony where Mayor Hancock gave his most enthusiastic, appraising chem-fueled speeches was a bit trickier, but she'd managed it with only a _slight_ bump to the noggin'.

Goodneighbor's streets were teaming with raiders. Trashcan Carla hadn't been lying about their appearance either. Gangly, with matted hair wild and unkempt and nails filed down to points, they spoke with sharpened teeth flashing between sentences. Their clothes were tattered rags filched from some poor sod they'd plucked off the Commonwealth. Most if not all of their attire was stained red with blood that did not belong to them. Probably.

Nora glimpsed around the corner. Rhys was out of sight, but he was definitely there.

When the way was clear, the former Minutemen general slipped between the banister rails and onto the asphalt below. Wordlessly, soundlessly, she disappeared through the bar's double doors.

Not much had changed about the Third Rail's interior. She shouldn't have been surprised. After all, according to Piper and Cait, it had been used as an impromptu shelter until Danse was able to relay the Goodneighbor citizens into the Institute. (She took a second to wonder on their reaction of going from grit to pristine.) There were some minor renovations from when the Sawtooth gang moved in, though. Minor ones, but pungent all the same. Heaps of blood and flesh. Gnawed bones. The unwary might mistake this formally thriving dive as a super mutant sanctuary. That heavy iron aroma slammed olfactories so harshly that Nora stifled a sneeze.

It hadn't been long since the trio of cannibals marched Meg into those confines. Couldn't have been. Maybe twenty minutes? Clearly they wasted no time. You didn't have to strain your ears to hear some ... rather _unsavory_ noises. Squelches. Groans. The solitary weeping of an innocent, violated child.

That little flare in her gullet was kicking into high-drive. Nora flitted her way down the stairs, carefully sidestepping the array of tin can chimes blocking her path. (She turned reflexively to advise her companion of the little trap before reminding her confused self that she was, in fact, alone.) A quick scan of the floor ensured no frag mines - or any _other_ mines - awaited the stepping of uneasy feet. Towards the bottom, she kept to the stairs' rail - huddled low so that the peak of her silverish hair could not be discerned.

"Hurry t'up, Kirch. I wanna - I wanna fuck her so bad!"

"Yell wait yer fuckin' turn!"

They sounded farther away. Not at the bar. Nora's head rounded the corner. All clear. They must be down in the room in the back - the same one where she found those two Gunners harassing a down-on-his-luck MacCready. The memory of back-then versus right-now collided into a white haze of mixed emotion, a sense of reality flipping its way upside-down. It was an innocent recollection, so tainted now ...

She snuck her way down the hallway. Sure enough, Nora spied movement - shadows being cast against the wall from what little light the faded amber ceiling bulb provided: frantic gesticulations of frustrated Sawtooth raiders pleasuring themselves to the rhythm of their third member's hot-breathed antics. Nora inched in a little further. The final raider in this little group was sitting on the ragged couch MacCready once claimed. He'd puled Meg into his lap after hastily removing her pants. Gnarled claws rubbed against her bare abdomen, leaving little cuts that bled down into the threshold of activity. And Meg - oculars wide, tears welling; lost somewhere between misery and numbness - could do nothing but listlessly award him with whatever he demanded of her. They'd gagged her with a dirty cloth, bound her arms behind her back.

Nora found the hilt of her sword. She didn't realize her teeth were grinding until her jaw became sore with the effort.

The nearest Sawtooth raider was right at the edge of the doorway. She could slit his throat with Buzzkill's serrated edge, move in to kill the one assaulting Meg ... then finish the job and stow the girl safely away from the oncoming firefight before the commotion sent the entirety of Goodneighbor running into the Third Rail.

Closer. Just a little further now.

A whirring robotic motor. _Yellow eyes_. Nora restrained a hiss, freezing in place.

Then the yellow flashed red. Two toy cymbals clanged against one another. _That_ _ **fucking**_ _monkey._

Her target turned, dick in hand, to face the distraction. Too little, too late. Nora lunged towards his face with Buzzkill's full length exposed. She drove the sharpened blade into the space between his eyes, sending bolts of electricity into his skull for good measure: an act that was ore for her than anything else.

"YOU BITCH!" howled Sawtooth #2, hastily tucking his manhood away and reaching for the snubnosed .44 stuffed in his belt. "I'LL EAT YER FUCKIN' FACE OFF, YOU CU - "

Nora relieved him of his lower jaw first. Taxed by the flopping of his languid tongue, the wretched lad couldn't even holler pain as she field dressed him in one slash. His gun clattered to the ground. The hammer snapped forward. Prompted by a miniature explosion, a bullet ripped through the air - bouncing from one hard surface to the other until it buried itself in the concrete wall.

Last but not least ...

She expected him to cry out in fear. To be horrified. But the final Sawtooth, 'Kirch', met her lonely eye with both of his own. He still clenched Meg's sides, still bounced her on his hips. Taunting. Almost. His mouth hovered inches above the girl's throat, jaw parting slightly to show off those shark-like jowels. Was he going to bite her? Rip her throat out?

He'd said something then. Maybe, "Don't you want a taste?" or some verbose statement along those lines. She could not hear him over the ringing in her ears - didn't _want_ to as she slid Buzzkill into his chest. It met resistance at the sternum. Nora thrust onward, breaking the bone barrier until the serrated tip cleaved into his damnable heart.

Nora's face was red. She knew it without actually looking in the mirror. So much furious heat seared her cheeks. _No time to linger._

"Meg," she crooned, encapsulating the young girl's torso in a half-hug. Her arms were long enough to reach around without having to employ her other appendage. As gently as she could without spending too much precious time, Nora pulled the Bunker Hill local from the gurgling, dying Sawtooth's lap. "Let's find your pants real quick. I'm gonna need you to hide, okay sweetheart? It's gonna be okay."

Meg leaned heavy on her good foot. Nora undid her gag, tore off the binds keeping her arms immobilized. The girl's mouth was trembling: heartbreak; a wounded soul. Her motherly instincts wanted so much to pull her into a tight hug, to brush back her hair and tell her everything was gonna be alright, let it all out, I've got you dear ... But there was no time for consoling. That would have to come later. The rest of the Sawteeth would be breaking down the Third Rail's door any minute now ...

Nora scoured the linoleum floor. Her pants, where the fuck were Meg's pants?

"I - I ... "

A scuffing. From the corner of her eye, Nora could see Meg bending over to fetch something off the ground. It wasn't until the hammer clicked back that she realized it was the dropped gun.

"I - I can't - "

Meg had the snubnosed barrel against her temple before the general could finish launching her way. " _MEG DON'T_ \- "

It rocked the child's head with such force that her cervical spine broke in an effort to get away. Crimson and gray splattered, smeared the wall - Meg's body limp - falling as a sack of wet laundry - sprawling haphazardly across the dirty ground - _in a flash, it was Shaun lying there_.

For an instant there was nothing but a high-pitched kreel in her ears. Arms outstretched, jaw dropped, helplessly staring.

And something that had been so fragile for so long cracked a little more.

Upstairs, the door slammed open. A dozen curious, hateful yowls poured through the Third Rail. They were getting louder by the heartbeat.

And she was going to kill every last one of them.

 

* * *

 

No sooner had they relayed into the Institute than they were swarmed with frantic questions and terrified glares. Apparently, MacCready's rabble-rousers had scared everybody half to death. They managed to peel away from the rowdy mess amidst the various shrieks and bustling orders.

"Get the civs inside!"

"Shut it down!"

"Everybody's good! They're holding it down outside!"

" _I SAID SHUT THE RELAY DOWN_!"

There was a dying hum as the last command was followed by hasty reciprocance. All of the computer lights lining the primary relay's wall stuttered, then blinked off. Fiona grit her teeth. "So about there being a trap ... "

Codsworth pinched MacCready's arm. "Sir, I shall return," he announced. "Allow me to bring Curie down for repairs." The disembodied android skull in question's eyes were closed. She'd 'gone into hibernation mode' to preserve what little power she had left. Her body was slung across the robot butler's shoulder. It was a sight to see, that was for sure. And it earned plenty of stairs. "Please wait for me before you decide to depart."

"Codsbot," MacCready started, "I don't think we'll be able to - " But he was gone, slithering his way through the buzzing mass-gathering crowd. The ex-Gunner bit his lip. "So ... I'm at a loss. How about you?"

Fiona's shoulders sagged. "No fuckin' idea."

"FIONA! HEY!"

The newfound vault hunter perked. She stood on her tiptoes, surveying the mosh pit. It didn't take her long to find Athena pushing through, followed closely by Janey. Before Fiona could spill about a dozen and one question, the gladiator yanked her from the relay room. Janey did the same for MacCready. They were practically dragged to the elevator, currently making its way down below with Codsworth aboard.

"What the hell's going on?" Fiona quipped.

"We'll talk downstairs," Athena told her. "Too much going on up here."

They boarded the elevator on its return trip with at least six other people. Once they were in the clear on the courtyard, Athena made a 'come hither' gesture. They followed her into a vacant bedroom and Janey locked the door behind them.

"First thing's first," Athena breathed. "Where's Maya? Lilith? Brick and Mordecai?"

Fiona hesitated. "Ah ... well ... You see, it's _kind of_ a long story."

She gave Athena the long and short of it, the whole time flinching at the gladiator's ferocious expression. Janey's eyes were cast downwards, lined with deepening guilt.

"I should've gone with them," hissed the gladiator, balling her hands into fists.

Janey touched her facial scar. "Ya woulda been teleported 'way like th' others, darlin'." Her comment wasn't so convincing, though. Even MacCready could sense Janey's regret.

"Jesus, what a _mess_. You find the Nora girl everybody here's been harping about, who happens to be pregnant with a Siren child that _also_ happens to be _Handsome Jack's descendant_. How the fuck does that happen anyway? Who the _fuck_ takes a sperm sample from a sociopathic mass-murderer?" Athena rubbed her eyes. Though she had not been outside to experience life as they had for the past few days, it was clear that so much had been going on that sleep was nonexistent.

Fiona cocked her head. "Hyperion." A simple one-word answer that made all the sense in the world. From her duffel bag, the vault hunter removed an ECHO device. "I found this at that lab. Guessing it's got more info on it."

"Let me see it." Athena plucked the object from Fiona's fingers before she could oblige. A few taps later and the gladiator resigned with a grunt. "Of course it would be encrypted. You'll have to hand this over to Rhys. He's probably the only one that can crack it. Not saying I don't have any faith in the eggheads over here - they've got some pretty interesting tech even for us. But Hyperion stuff, even _Atlas_ technology, is on a whole different level."

Fiona returned it back to her bag. "That's what we were thinking."

"So Maya's dead." Fatigue and sorrow drowned the twang of Athena's vocals. "Lilith is MIA. Brick, Mordecai, and Zer0 are ... _somewhere_. Handsome Jack's AI is running about. And there's a Vault open in the Glowing Sea?"

" _Was_ opened," Fiona corrected. She glanced sideways to MacCready. The mercenary was staring out the bedroom window, watching as Mama Murphy led the surviving Commonwealth children into the Institute's lower refuge. "The holo-whatever said they opened it but couldn't maintain the charge."

"A willing Siren can exert a shit-ton of energy on their own. When they're forced, it takes longer to get a Vault Key full." Something troublesome set upon Athena's battle-hardened brow. "That doesn't make any sense, though ... "

"Which part?"

"Maya. Getting here. Lilith's the only Siren that can go back and forth between dimensions like that, but _through time_? If this Earth is in the past ... it's _impossible_. That barrier can't be broken. So ... Well, no wait. There's one Siren that can. I think. _Shit_." Her hands clapped together fiercely, mirroring her rousing agitation. "As much as I hate to say it, Cassius might be the one to talk to about this crap. Everything's just fucking _heresay_ to me."

"Cassius?" Fiona questioned. "Why Cassius?"

"Atlas had the Crimson Lance. And the Crimson Lance was led by a Siren named Commandant Steele." Athena pursed her lips. "That old geezer was probably a lot younger back the. He might remember a thing or two about her. Lilith once said Steele was a technology buff, so maybe she dipped her hands into a little more than just Atlas mercenary work, you see what I'm saying?"

It was definitely something to remember. They would have to poke and prod the old man whenever he made an appearance. Where the actual hell was Vaughn anyway? Was that short stud doing okay?

"What happened here?" MacCready finally broke his fixated silence. The Gunner barely glanced over his shoulder. "Why is everybody spazzing out like they're gonna get nuked?"

"Didn'cha hear?" Janey blinked, stunned for some reason that was lost on Fiona and MacCready. "There's an army out thar. Some blokes callin' 'emselves th' Legion. _Hundreds_ of 'em, mate. Started marchin' on us this mornin'."

Fiona's stomach became a lead cauldron. How did they manage to get to Earth just in time to catch a war? "Is that why they shut down the relay?"

"Yeppa. Th' only one these blokes got's in th' Castle. They're scared o' what'll happen if'n th' Legion breaks through th' defenses."

This was suddenly becoming a whole lot bigger than just a traitorous Danse. "Do they really think," MacCready growled, a dangerous edge to his voice, "that they'll be able to break down the Castle's walls? They've got _cannons_."

"Ya _did_ hear me when ah said they got _hundreds_ o' soldiers, yea?"

 

* * *

 

Rhys did as he was told. He remained hidden until a series of gunshots sent the Sawtooth raiders running from the Hotel Rexford (and every other cockroach-infested corner of this wretched stitched-together city) to the Third Rail. Once the last one evacuated the hotel's confines, the cyborg counted to ten and worked his way inside.

He was greeted with a noxious combination of odors: something like fecal matter, piss, and alcohol. The smoke drifting lazily through the stairwells did little to nullify the impact, and Rhys found himself leaning over a corner, vomiting last night's deathclaw steak. When nothing remained but bile, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve (what else could he do? Find a towel? Where could he get a clean one?) and surveyed the surroundings.

There wasn't much left of the place to marvel at. Whatever power supplied the neon sign outside had been cut from the main lobby. His only illumination came in the form of several oil lamps dotting the counter, some tables, and the broken steps. There was a rusty heap of metal to his left. A Protectron once, considering its awkward structure, though it looked more like a walking beer keg than anything else.

Rhys found himself wishing for a cold one right now. Probably not healthy. _Well, neither's wading through this ... this_ _ **muck**_ _._

"Look for survivors," he whispered to himself. "Right." His stun baton felt unreasonably light - unreliable and weak compared to whatever he might face here. With shivering digits, Atlas removed it from his belt anyhow. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Though he didn't extend it. The tesla coil was incredibly bright on its own and would surely attract attention if a big bad 'wolf' was floating nearby.

He wished for the soft bed awaiting him at the Atlas biodome, for Sasha's feathery touch and warm skin, for the sweet deliciousness of drakefruit and the unusual companionship of Loader Bot and his 'girlfriend', Gortys. Anything. Anything but this.

At the foot of the stairs now ... Not much left to do but go up. Rhys couldn't run. He _wouldn't_ run. Hearing those pleading yelps above set iron weights around his chest. Turning tail and leaving them behind was ... _unthinkable_. Something Handsome Jack would do while _laughing_ about it. _"Hah! Those idiots were all like, 'Waaaah!' and I was all, 'Nah.' Let 'em breath suck smoke in. It'll clean up_ _ **my**_ _breathing space, amIright?"_

He tiptoed his way to the first landing without a spectacular faceplant or any other event worth noting. The burning in his lungs made Rhys realize he'd been holding his breath. What oxygen he soaked up now burned his throat, the floating acid stinging his eyes and nostrils. The smog wasn't so heavy that it made respiratory functions impossible, but it certainly agitated the living hell out of it. Rhys wanted to cough and did so silently into his balled fist.

Stopping at the first door, Rhys reached for the bobby pin box stored away in his knapsack. He got as far as touching its rugged wooden lid before thinking that, _Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I should start at the top floor, right? Work my way down?_ Seemed logical. Felt right. Why not?

The last step to the third floor creaked under his dainty weight. Rhys remained completely still for what seemed like hours, every muscle in his frail bodice tense with anticipation. Somebody would come leaping out of him, tear flesh from bone and leave his skin hanging in tatters. He was gonna die he was gonna die he was gonna ... _nothing_. No death. No jump scare. Just muffled weeps towards the end of the hall.

Would Sasha be proud of him? Trekking through the burned hall all by his lonesome?

Was she _okay_?

He kept his arms out to his sides, fingers splayed wide open as if that would somehow balance out the weight he didn't have and keep the floor from screeching. Not a peep did he utter, but in his mind Rhys was screaming.

The last door on the right looked easy enough. He tested the handle first, quietly attempting to turn it. _Try before you pry._ It didn't budge. Rhys could barely see the keyhole through the dimming fumes, but he felt for it. Small. Simple-ish. He plucked out a bobby pin and screwdriver, bit down ever-so-gently on his tongue, and went to work.

Fiona might be cheering his efforts. Surely she'd be laughing about this in the future. Hyperion janitor gone Atlas CEO gone rogue burglar. What a trendsetter he was becoming ...

The first pin broke off. He rummaged for a replacement. In the meantime, the sobbing on the other side had gotten louder. Had they heard him? Did they know rescue was coming? Working on the lock a second time, Rhys admitted that he'd be lying if he said this didn't feel ... good, in a way. _Right_. To be helping somebody ... saving them from certain doom ... Secretly he couldn't wait to see their explosion of gratitude as he freed them from their prison. Would they leap into his arms, crying joyously? Would they thank him silently?

Whatever they did, Rhys just hope they'd stop make that hideous _crunching_ noise. It was rattling his nerves, making the hair stand on the back of his neck.

 

* * *

 

"Son of a bitch," Nora hissed.

They'd flooded into the Third Rail with no regard to where they were actually stepping. The first three that plowed into the back room stomped all over their former teammates. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the fact that they didn't seem to _care_ who was beneath their feet. They carried only combat knives, so Nora dispatched them with ease.

Those first few were merely harbingers for what would come. First two more came in behind them. Then five. Then seven. Before she knew it, the whole room was full. It was almost impossible to move and even harder to draw back her blade for a strike, so the general shoved her way through the gaggle and raced into the bar room, wishing she'd held onto at least one fragmentation grenade.

There was no end to her fury. No sating that itching _bloodlust_ that roared to life when Meg's deceased body hit the floor. The daughter of Bunker Hill's very own surgeon, Kay, Meg hadn't deserved this ... Nobody did. No adult. Definitely not a _child_.

Nora was moving before her body could fully register that it was doing just that. She was a whirlwind of fury. A matron saint of revenge. A _kamaitachi_ that could shake the blurry outline of _Shaun_ ragdolling backwards with a hole in his head, of _Cait_ with her bottom half ripped wholly from her body, of _Nate_ slumping listlessly against the cryo cell's frigid mechanism.

"I'll end all of you," she'd snarled as they circled her like a hungry wolf pack. A careful aim. A reckless swinging of her sword. A head went flying. Wet, red confetti. "Every _last one of you_."

Snapping teeth, twitching fingers. They lurched in, grabbed for her. She would pull away, slice away their limbs. Gunshots reverberated - so close and so loud that she wasn't totally sure where they were coming from. And for all the blazing inferno's searing agony in her chest, part of her knew this would be her undoing. It was too much. There were too many. The world was spinning wildly out of control.

But she kept at it. Kept plowing through, attacking, retreating only to lunge again.

Something sharp pricked at her right shoulder. A bullet. Possibly. It didn't burn like one and there was an odd placement of weight there that knocked her just slightly off balance. An object had adhered to her muscle - some kind of canister -

And as her joints seized up, Nora realized that it was a goddamned syringer dart. She grabbed for it. No good. Her arm froze halfway to the point of contact. Buzzkill slipped from her grasp, fingers failing to keep their hold. Legs, unwilling to bend, could no longer maintain her footing. She faltered back, striking the floor hard with her spine and they were _on_ her, claws reaching, jowels chomping.

A large palm found her throat. Long fingers curled about the rigidness of her neck, gradually tightening until the constriction against her trachea disabled even the slightest current of oxygen to filter through. Nora tried to gasp, praying for some kind of second wind that would enable her to leap back into the fray with rejuvenated strength. But the choking was transitioning to intense pain, the flats of those forceful fingers squeezing until she thought for sure they were going to poke through the skin and -

\- _for just a moment, Nora could see Danse's face in the crowd. It wasn't real. She knew he wasn't there. But this ghostly visage ... it stood stoic, staring without emotion behind the wavering Sawtooth shoulders._

_Nora would have reached for him if she could._

_"Don't leave."_

_With darkness stretching across the peripherals of her vision, the Brotherhood of Steel paladin did the one thing he was good at doing to her._

_He turned away._

 

* * *

 

 

And a flash, bam, _alakazam_ -

"Open ... sesame!" Rhys whispered harshly as he seduced the lock to do his bidding and pushed the door open. The Atlas CEO poked his head through the frame, glimpsing this way and that. The smoke was still too heavy to see directly through, but he could make out vague silhouettes, if nothing else. "Hello? Is someone here?"

A rustling in a corner somewhere. The weeping continued, but the crunching had stopped.

Goosebumps pricked at his arms. "H-Hello?"

Rhys crawled sluggishly forward. For every inch he covered, his heart added another ten beats per minute. This room was ... well, it had been deprived of a lantern, that was for sure. No windows either. He couldn't make hide nor hair of what he was seeing. Everything two feet from his face was concealed in absolute darkness.

A creeping fear was slowly washing over him. He allowed his thumb to linger above the stun baton's button just a minute longer before nerves demanded that he unveil the tesla coil in all its glory.

He should have listened to that nagging, nudging urge to run from the start. Rhys really needed to start giving his gut more credit.

Because the flecking arcs of blue electricity illuminated a pair of faces straight from monster movies ... no less than five feet from where he crouched. Their eyes were locked onto him. Maws stretched far too widely with teeth that were far too sharp: menacing grimaces twisted into _almost smiles_ , dripping with very fresh blood from a very writhing body laying against the wall behind them.

One of them ... both were male, as far as Rhys could tell ... dipped his neck just below his shoulders. "Pla _aaaayyy_ ," it rasped, scratching the rug with one of its claws.

His heart was in his throat in an instant. Had he not puked downstairs, Rhys was pretty damned sure his bowels would be removing themselves right now. "Oh - uh - p-play? _Me_?"

The _thing_ nodded. It was advancing, plodding its way to him at a snail's pace, but Rhys could see the twitching muscle underneath pale skin. It's partner remained motionless - locked in that otherworldly staring contest.

"I'd - I'dlovetostayandplaybutI'mawfullylate!"

Rhys' legs had grown so tense that they ached vigorously when he jumped. It didn't matter. _Nothing_ else mattered but getting _as far away from this place_ as he could. Feral ghouls were one thing. Zombie people with sharp teeth were a different story!

He bolted into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. Both of those ... those _creatures_ (were they really raiders?) crashed headlong into the sturdy wooden panel, screeching. He had just enough time to sprint five feet down the hall before the doorknob began rattling -

\- and a pair of hands extended from a door to his left, one that he only just now realized was open ( _stupid stupid stupid!_ ). One wrapped about his arms, the other burrowing his shrieking mouth into the crook of an elbow. Rhys screeches became muffles grumbles. He could feel his breath reflecting back at him through the dirty jacket.

" _Shhhhhhhh_!" hissed a voice into his ear. "Shut up - just shut up - I've got you!"

In the din of his rocking brain, the rattling of that incessant doorknob and the creaking as it opened to let the demon spawn pour into the hall, Rhys found himself hoping beyond hope that it was _Nora_ grabbing him. But this voice was masculine, with an airy hint. Shorter, too. The person's chin barely reached the middle of his shoulder blades. Yet the strength was unreal, and the CEO was yanked back into the dimly lit room before the Sawteeth could spy him.

There was a lantern in this room - thank the gods - so that Rhys could see the amber glow of dirty objects. A dresser, sodden with charcoal. The mattress was filled with holes, loose springs punching through in uncomfortable locations. There wasn't much else by way of furniture, but there was a collection of olden comic books strewn across the floor. With such poor lighting, Rhys couldn't read the titles. But one of the depicted characters wore a long coat obnoxiously similar to the one Nora donned.

"Hide," demanded the stranger. Rhys was pushed to the ground. "Under the bed. Go!"

His vision was a haze of clouded thoughts and frightened emotions. Rhys huddled as far back as he could without punching through the damn wall itself. Every inch of him was a shivering mess. He had to grit his white teeth tightly together to keep them from clattering against one another.

The stranger sat down on his bed, thumbing through one of the books like nothing had ever happened.

Except the Sawteeth seemed to know differently.

Rhys saw their feet approach his door. "Oh _Keeeeeeent_ ," sang the same one that spoke before. "Where did he gooooo?"

"Who?" 'Kent' piqued.

"You know who. Don't play games - that's for _us_ to do."

The box spring shook. Was Kent moving his head? "I'm sorry fellas, but I really got no idea ... Sorry."

"Fuckin' Ghoul," growled the other Sawtooth. It was the first time Rhys heard him say anything. It sounded like wind blowing through a straw. "Dunno why th' fuck Scar likes ya so goddamn much. Quit the shit, Connoly. I know ya got him. I _saw_ ya."

Silence drifted from Kent Connoly. Absolutely nothing could be said. Did he know he'd been had? Rhys had to admit that it was a valiant effort. At least somebody tried to step in to save him ... He wouldn't have made it down the stairs without those two beasts preying on him. But now the jog, however short it had been, was up.

" _Kent_ ," Straw Sawtooth howled.

"You gettim, Merle!" jeered Playtime.

"You gonna answer or you gonna sit an' stare at yer fuckin' comics all goddamn day? _Are ya even listenin' to me_?!" A few quick strides broke the distance between them. There was a struggle, ripping paper, and half of a comic was thrown to the floor. Then a connection unlike any other - fist against bone. Kent was knocked from his post, his thin body stretching adjacent to the bed. Rhys was finally able to gander the man's face - deformed like every other Ghoul's, but with a worn fedora and trench coat that made him suitable more detective-like. "C'mon, _Rhet Rhineheart_ , ya really still believe in that shit?!"

"She came to life before," Kent protested. His eyes met Rhys'. The CEO could see nothing but unbound determination.

"That was _two years ago_ , you bleedin' _idiot_." Sharp boots kicked hard into the Ghoul's ribs. He reeled, gulping mouthfuls of air. "That Shroud nonsense mighta gotten a bunch o' morons riled up, but that bitch ain't been around for a while now. She sure as hell ain't here when ya need 'er now, is she?"

"She'll be back," barked the Ghoul. He rolled onto his stomach, propping his elbows beneath his chest. "The Silver Shroud never leaves her friends behind - "

"Stupid _dick_ munch!" A resounding smack echoed when the feet collided with Kent's chin. Either the Ghoul's pain threshold was very low or the blow turned his brain into gelatin, for his eyes rolled back until nothing but the whites were visible. "Wanna believe in goddamn fairytales. I got new for ya, _sweetheart_ , if that shit could come true, this wouldn't be a shithole to begin with!"

Merle grabbed Kent's feet and Playtime scooped his arms beneath the shoulders. Together they hoisted the unconscious man onto the bed, dropping him rather unceremoniously. It bounced under his weight. A lifeless arm lolled off the edge.

"Now then ... " Merle dropped to his knees, twisting sideways to peer beneath the mattress. He locked eyes with Rhys and, much to the curdling dismay in his stomach, grinned that shark-toothed grin. " _Hello_ there."

 

* * *

 

 

She was a gorgeous specimen.

Pale, milky white flesh. Pure. Almost. If not for the myriad of scars across her blank canvas of a torso, she would have been entirely perfect. Too perfect. A large bruise encircled her throat. Johnny'd gotten a little too rough with her. He would be punished later. Platinum blond lockes cascaded about her head: a faded golden halo. Small breasts perking in just the right ways. Long, thin limbs spidered out to her sides - lanky and muscled _just so_ : neither overly bulky nor too scrawny. A streamlined face with supple pink lips, marred only by the eye that no longer took up residence in her right socket.

Dennis took great pains to wash the filth from her body ... and there had been a lot of it. An accumulation of dirt and sweat gave her the scent of a Commonwealth scavenger, but the etchings across her flesh indicated her rank of warrior. Hardened. Formidable. She'd certainly put a dent in their numbers, that was for sure ...

A prize.

He hovered over her for a long while, admiring her peculiar brand of grace. When her eye moved behind closed lids, Dennis decided it was time to perform his duty. She wasn't deserving of the filthy rags that littered Goodneighbor's store rooms. No ... she was worthy of the fine silken bits of fabric, stripped from an untouched dress locked away in a suitcase for 200 years.

Dennis found her hands first, and tied them together. Not too loosely, not too tightly ... but after leering at her various battle marks for the thirteenth time (he counted) that night, he decided that she would be the sort willing to break her own wrists if it meant freedom.

Next came the gag. Such a shame to cover up that pretty little mouth. It was, perhaps, her most marvelous feature; Small; Dainty; Accompanied by a smaller mandible than her rugged lifestyle demanded. She had the prettiest teeth he had ever seen, his Snow Queen ...

Thumbing through his blackened beard, Dennis could not fathom the taste of her ... the _touch_ of her. While she slumbered, he'd dared to traipse upon the places no mortal man should be allowed to go. The feel had been heavenly, soft, _warm_ ... and he'd broken his own vandalizing fingers for his transgressions.

Only when she was awake.

 _Only_ when she was awake.

Snow White's clothes, so dark and unkempt, had been thrown into a pile to be burned later. They were hideous, ratty, and torn. The coat may have been worth salvaging once, but it was so tattered at the hems that he deemed it a total loss. The combat armor had seen better days, but it could be repaired. And that _sword_ ...

Now _that_ was an interesting addition. A sword. Not a gun. No some dagger. No missile launcher. But a _sword_? Straight out of the medieval ages, this white vixen was. Dennis had seen many a crazy wastelander, but none of which who could carry a blade like _that_ properly. He stowed it to the side for later cleaning. Those wires could be removed. She wouldn't be needing it anymore, after all.

His fair maiden groaned in her sleep. The sultry sound sent shockwaves spiraling up his spinal column. The thought of her invoking that heavenly noise beneath him made the him run his tongue along sharpened teeth in hungry anticipation.

Her head lolled to the side. The lonely eye drifted open. Pale teal, almost translucent - another anomaly of the Wasteland. It blinked several times. Then she shuddered. This evolved into full-on shivering. Dennis had not covered her up - that would come later.

After a moment of steady closing and opening of her eyelid, the veil of sleep must have been lifted from her vision. Snow White bolted upright. Their eyes met. She growled. Her teeth tore into the fabric, canines poking holes into the silk. A wilderness appeared across her expression - a feral brutality that excited him beyond all else.

He could bear it no longer.

As Snow White twisted her arms hither and thither in an attempt to break free, Dennis leaned into her. His rugged hand touched her leg, traced to the inside of her thigh. This trespass was rewarded with a headbutt. Stars blasted across his sight. Of course ... that was foolish of him. He should have expected no less. She rolled backwards onto her shoulders to add another dent to his ego with a sharp kick to the jaw. Quite the spry one, his little White Rabbit.

That was alright. He was unworthy _now_ but he would make her _see_.

"Eaaaasy now," he warbled to her. His voice had a way of surprising people. Callous though his appearance may have been, there was a softened tone to his cords: like a breeze dancing amongst river reeds. "You wouldn't want to do that, my Snow Queen."

She rared up to strike him again. Dennis' sight came back to where it needed to be just in time. He balled his hand into a fist and blitzed it into her right cheek. She flew sideways from the force. It would leave a mark. Snow Queen clambered to her knees, inching forward to escape. But Dennis was atop her, using his oversized hands to force her head into the linoleum floor. It was a simple rule of asserting dominance ... Show them who is boss, and they will subdue.

"Not when we have your little _friend_."

This was the only thing that kept her from squirming away. And _oh_ the position he was in now ... Dennis drew back his drool. It would be unkind to slobber all over this pretty little minx.

"Oh yes," he taunted, pushing his mouth to her ear, blowing into it. "We have your lad. Boy with the black suit. He was in the Hotel Rexford, you see, attempting to free our cattle. We simply _cannot_ have that."

Snow Queen turned her head, glared at him. Challenging. _You don't mean that_ , she seemed to say. Then her eye found his belt ... and Dennis knew she'd seen the keys hanging from one of his pants' loops. He followed her gaze, returning it to her face with abroad, sharp-toothed smile.

"But if you allow me to do what I _need_ to do ... I'll let him live. How about that?"

He thought she wasn't taking him seriously, for her gaze never broke. Dennis reached into his pocket, procuring from it a silver bit of metal. A pinky finger, ripped from the cyborg's synthetic arm.

That did it.

Snow Queen relaxed, reluctantly.

"And if you try to escape ... I will have him killed," Dennis warned. A darker part of his psyche _hoped_ she would resist. It would be more fun .. more _delightful_ that way. "Do you understand?"

She set her eyes upon the wired sword confiscated from her person. Looking from it to Dennis and back again, she drew her teeth against the gag and snarled. _When I get free,_ she seemed to say, _I will slay you where you stand._

Dennis ran his hand along her bare waistline. Snow Queen trembled, but did not repeal him.

"Good girl," he purred.

 

* * *

 

 

Rhys didn't remember being dragged out of the room or down the stairs. One of them must have cold-cocked him, because his face was hurting. So was the back of his skull. Did they just let his head knock into every step on the way down? It sure as shit felt like that. His brain was _screaming_.

When he came to again, he was in a different place ... It was cleaner, somewhat. White floors, a medical atmosphere and a lingering smell that reminded him of a doctor's office. Several strange 'pods' with chairs decorated the room. Their glass lids had been smashed to kingdom come.

"Where am I?" he moaned. "Where did you ... take me? Why is everything - "

A kick to his ribs shut him up. Rhys rolled into a fetal position and squeaked painfully.

"Hurry it up, Flint," barked the familiar grated voice of Merle. "I ain't got all damn day. An' if he starts runnin' his mouth again like before, I'm gonna punch a hole clean through his face!"

He was talking before? Rhys didn't remember that. He was missing his pinky finger off his robotic arm, too. Didn't remember _that_ either.

"I'm hurryin', Merle. Hold yer fuckin' brahmin. Gahd."

Moments passed. They felt like hours. Rhys dared not to move or speak. When he did, it was only to glance at the ceiling. He was at a loss ... Where was Nora? Was Sasha okay? Did that Kent guy die? ... Was _he_ going to die?

Soon Merle was hunched over him. His sour milk breath washed over Rhys' face. The CEO wanted to retch.

"So here's how this is gonna play out, ya black cat asshole," snapped the Sawtooth. Grubby fingers held an object just in range of Rhys' vision if he looked askance. Merle must have realized his mistake in placement, because the sharp-toothed man proceeded to lower the needle to his eyes for a better look. "We got some old-world chems, ya see? An' we're gonna test 'em on ya, cuz we wanna use 'em but ... well this shit ain't been used in 200 years or sumthin' like that. Dunno if it'd kill us, an' we'd feel mighty stupid if we just shot ourselves up with murder."

Rhys thought his heart skipped town and left without him. He definitely had to catch up to it, so he got to his feet and ran. The CEO didn't make it five steps before Merle had him on the ground, mercilessly beating into his fragile skull with iron-like knuckles. When he'd stopped, Rhys couldn't see anymore. Nothing but bright splotches of light. He tasted blood, _smelled_ blood, but couldn't tell where it was leaking from.

"You do that again," Merle hissed, "and I'll split yer fuckin' skull open, ya dig?"

Even if he wanted to protest ... to say something _witty_ ... whatever words formed in his brain were garbled messes that came out backwards. He felt dampness on his cheeks, thought he might have been crying. Was he? He didn't know. Couldn't tell. Couldn't feel them rolling out of his eyes ...

But he did feel the needle impale the fold of his arm.

And when the ghosts came, he felt his entire existence fold into a melting pot of _how fucked am I right now?_


End file.
